Time Revolution
by KissThis
Summary: Hermione's ritual magick brought back four people from the past to fulfil a prophecy, but they aren't exactly the four she planned on. Are the trio a prehistoric triumverate of power? Will Voldemort be defeated? Love for the Marauders? SBHGRL FIN
1. Prologue

"_You have my permission to do whatever is necessary, to end this war," Dumbledore told her solemnly. He'd never looked so old than he did now in her eyes._

_Hermione nodded, trying to keep the tea cup from shaking in her nervous hands. He was putting a great deal of faith in her, and it was a bit hard to swallow all at once. Nodding once more, resolutely, she set her tea back on the desk and set her jaw firmly. "I won't let you down, sir."_

_He smiled faintly, but it was a ghost of the real thing. "You are a bright young witch, Miss Granger. I would have not given you this task if I did not have faith that you would do everything you could to aide the resistance."_

_Hermione stood, bowing her head in respect. "Thank you, sir."_

_His voice stopped her just before she passed through the door. "Miss Granger?" She turned around. _

_He looked solemn again, hands clasped firmly on top of the desk. Neither of them had touched their tea. "**Whatever** is necessary..." he repeated._

_She swallowed slowly, and wondered what exactly Dumbledore thought she was capable of._

--

**Six months later...**

--

"Harry! Ron!"

Hermione ran towards them, her satchel flapping heavily behind her as she sprinted down the platform, her trunk and suitcases levitating beside her. The two boys in question looked up from the parchment they were pouring over at the sound of their names. Upon seeing the rampaging witch, they both broke out in identically goofy grins.

"'Mione!" They called, just before the brunette whirlwind collided with them. She hugged them both fiercely around their necks and they all laughed in amusement as they stumbled in a drunken looking heap around the train platform.

"Crikey, Hermione," Ron teased. "It's only been a week since you were at the Burrow."

"It's felt like ages," she confessed, brushing wayward bushy curls from her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed from running and she rubbed at them to try and return a semblance of normal color to them.

"Ron and I were just going over the Aureus Prophecy—"

Hermione's groan cut Harry off, and he looked up from shoving her trunks into the train's underbelly. "You aren't still going on about that, are you?" She demanded. "It's a _joke_."

"You're the one who brought it to us in the first place," Harry reminded her.

"Obviously a _phenomenal _mistake," she protested. "I thought you two would find it funny. Who knew for once in your lives you'd take something seriously."

Ron reached over and ruffled the top of her head, sending her already disorderly hair into complete disarray. "Aww...we love you too, 'Mione."

She glared at him, and he folded up the parchment he and Harry had been looking at earlier before tucking it into an inner pocket of his jacket. "There," he said.

"Forget about it," she insisted waving her arms around. "I've got something so much more important to show you," she exclaimed, her earlier excitement returning.

Wasting no time for explanation, she grabbed a hold of the guard rail and swung herself up into the train, disappearing around the corner with Harry and Ron right on her tail. She didn't even bother checking the compartments, but headed straight down to the very last one of the corridor. She slid the door open and waited for Harry and Ron to follow her in before shutting it again.

"Harry, will you lock it, please?"

He nodded and fished his wand out of the back pocket of his jeans. He muttered several charms that briefly illuminated the room before absorbing into the doorways. When he finished, Hermione's wand appeared from the sleeve of her jumper and she cast one last spell for good measure.

"We've definitely had a bad influence on 'er," Ron commented with a shake of his head. She shot him a look.

"So what's with all the extra security?" Harry asked, leaning forward anxiously in his seat.

"I'm getting to that," Hermione huffed with the effort of tugging a large, and most likely heavy, tome out of her satchel. With a frustrated breath she blew her bangs up and out of her eyes, dropping the book into her lap and opening it up to a previously marked page.

"I've found it!" She told them breathlessly. She turned the dusty volume so they could read the ancient text.

Harry squinted throw his glasses to read the faint symbols inked onto the yellowing parchment. It obviously wasn't in his native tongue. "It's not in English or Latin," he said. "I can't read it."

Hermione sighed, obviously put out. "Didn't you learn anything I told you to?" She asked.

"It's not Hebrew or Arabic, either," Ron commented a bit quietly. Harry looked at him in surprise, but Hermione was beaming with pride. So much, in fact, that she gave Harry a good solid punch in the arm.

"Someone does what I tell them too," she scolded him.

Harry rubbed his shoulder ruefully where she'd hit him. "Ow, Hermione. Have you been working out?"

She turned up her nose at him, all of them having completely forgotten the book. "Of course I have. We are in a war, aren't we?"

Both boys guffawed loudly. "Our little Hermione's getting all buff!" Harry crowed, while Ron tried to push up the sleeve of her white jumper. "Let's see your guns," he taunted.

"Get off of me!" She exclaimed, trying to fend them both off with kicks and slapping hands.

Ron was climbing all over the seats trying to get her to show him her biceps, while Harry attempted to goad her into a fight. It was all completely ridiculous, and Hermione was bold enough to say so.

"This is ridiculous!" She shouted, scowling at them both. But she wasn't able to keep up the serious face under Harry's barrage of humorous taunts.

"Come on little girl!" He said, pushing her in the shoulder. "Put up your dukes," He held up both fists in the air, like they were about to engage in some old fashioned boxing.

"You have the courage of a wet noodle, and the bravery of a hippopotamus."

All of this was said in a very nasally, and pompous welsh accent.

"You sound like an arse," Ron sniggered, and Hermione used the opportunity to shove him back into his seat.

"You're both idiots," she said firmly, pushing Harry back down as well with her foot.

"I know for a fact, that the two of you were working out this summer too, so stop giving me a hard time."

"We did what we could," Ron admitted. "Whenever we had a break from your bloody intense training camp."

Hermione flushed, "It wasn't that bad," she said defensively.

"You were worse than McGonagall," Harry informed her. He was awarded with another thorough punch on the arm.

"Bloody hell!" Ron swore. "You need to lighten up on him, 'Mione, or there'll be nothing left for Voldemort."

She laughed and Harry did too. "Now...about this book," he said.

Hermione smacked her forehead. "I forgot!" She exclaimed. "You two truly are a terrible influence on me," she told them, pulling the book back into her lap from where it had fallen onto the compartment seat during the trio's tussle.

Taking a deep breath, she went into what Ron and Harry and affectionately called her "lecture mode".

"These," she began, placing her palms down against the well worn cover. "Are the Tempus Infractus Scrolls."

Ron's face clearly showed his wonderment, "How did you get 'em out of the castle?"

She grinned proudly, "Magic."

"I hope you didn't have to do anything illegal, Hermione," Harry told her seriously.

She studiously ignored him and flipped the book back open to the marked page. "We looked at the scrolls before, but they were written in a language we didn't know so we skipped over it. I was looking back over it just before term ended last year and this design," she tapped the opposite page. "caught my eye."

"Did you get it translated?" Ron asked, curious.

She nodded and began rooting around in her bag for a packet of parchments. "Turns out they were written in a hybrid language – a cross between Sumerian and prehistoric Latin. It took me all summer, but I got it all translated. I sent it off in pieces to different contacts that I trust, and together we've gotten it as close as if it were written in English."

Ron and Harry both bent over the translation; Harry's brow furrowed and Ron looking ridiculous as he mouthed the words silently to himself.

He stopped about halfway down. "This looks like some sort of incantation," he said rather perplexed.

Hermione nodded. "It is," she said matter-of-factly. "It's ancient ritual magick, and probably hasn't been used since the scrolls were written."

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "This is dangerous!"

She shook her head confidently. "I can handle it, Harry. I've been practicing ritual magick since I got to Hogwarts. Besides, everything we did this summer has made me a lot stronger."

"What's all this "I' and "me" business?" Ron cut in. "You're not doing this by yourself."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron, I'm perfectly capable..."

"This is Dark arts, Hermione," Harry told her, forcefully. "You know I'm better at this than you."

"You don't know the first thing about ritual magick," she shot back.

"Hermione..." Ron hushed, for once being the mediator of the three.

"No!" She said loudly. "I'm not letting either of you get in trouble!"

There was nothing but silence.

"Trouble?" Harry finally said. "Hermione..."

"Have you gone to Dumbledore yet?" Ron said, picking up where his friend had left off.

Hermione sighed. This wasn't going at all well, and she had a pounding headache now to prove it. "He told me to do "whatever was necessary"—"

"Yes, Hermione, we know!" Ron exclaimed in exasperation.

"He doesn't want me to tell him!" She shouted. She took a slow breath in the quiet that followed. "Don't you see? He can't do it himself, but he can turn a blind eye to me. As long as he knows nothing of what I'm doing he won't be forced to put a stop to it."

"Bloody hell..." Ron breathed.

Hermione sighed. "Tell me about it."

"This is all just one big conspiracy isn't it..." Harry commented with little humor in his voice. He sighed as well. "Do you even know what this spell does?"

Hermione flipped back a page and handed him the corresponding translation. He read through it wordlessly, and when he was finished he spoke with a strained, nearly breathlessly voice.

"Hermione..." he said slowly as if trying to impress the weight of his words upon her. "Do you have any idea what kind of trouble this could get you into..."

She nodded. "Azkaban, or worse..." she tried not to sound too pessimistic, but the situation didn't help any. "That's why I'm doing this alone."

Too quickly the mood had gone from cheery and excited to solemn quietness. There was a crinkling of paper as Ron set the translation back upon the book. He'd read it too. "Do you think Dumbledore will be able to get you out?" His question was quiet.

Suddenly, Hermione didn't think this was such a good idea. She was having doubts...

"I don't know," she told him truthfully. "If he claims responsibility for my actions, then the Ministry and everyone will know that he didn't do anything to stop it from happening. If he doesn't..." She shrugged. "Someone else will take my place and I'll be sent to Azkaban."

"I don't see how you can be so calm about this," Harry said tightly. She didn't know how he was doing it either.

"There aren't any other options," she replied. Her hands curled into fists and she slammed them down onto the book. "I _know_ this is right! This is _it_!"

Another prolonged silence...

"This sucks," Ron said finally, when all hopes of dissuading Hermione had failed. Hermione couldn't agree more.

Just when it seemed they would be spending the rest of the train ride to Hogwarts in tense silence, she cleared her throat and smiled softly. "Let's take one last look at that Aureus Prophecy..."

Harry chuckled, and Ron pulled the parchment from his jacket pocket with a wide grin. He spread it out over the compartment seat and the three friends spent the last hour bent over the single parchment, their head pressed together, deep in discussion all thoughts of Hermione's plan pushed to the back of their minds.


	2. I Tempus Infractus

Ten 'til midnight.

The first years were exhausted from their trip and the excitement of it all, and the upper years hadn't gotten any homework yet that they'd have put off 'til the wee hours of the morning. Everyone in Gryffindor Tower was asleep.

Hermione had cleared a large space in the center of the common room, pushing all the furniture to the walls. She'd had the choice of doing the ritual naked or dressed in white, naked giving more strength to her casting. But even though everyone was supposedly asleep, she didn't want to run the risk of walking around naked should anyone develop insomnia.

Keeping the hood of her white cloak up around her face, she picked up a jar from the floor that held red sand. She unscrewed the lid, depositing it on the couch, and began to walk a clockwise circle trailing a steady stream of sand behind her. Just short of completing the circle she stopped and stepped inside of it. With slow precision she drew out a seven pointed star, each tip ending at the circle's boundary.

A black pillar candle she set at each point, and three smaller white ones in between points. She lit them each with the same clockwise motion as she'd drawn the circle, careful not to disturb the sand lines.

"_Seven are the planets known to the Ancients_

_Seven are the colors of the rainbow_

_Seven are the stars in the Great Bear_

_Seven are the nights in each quarter of the moon_

_Seven are the directions of the circle"_

She recited. She turned to a smaller jar this time, and grabbed from within a handful of salt. Starting where she began she walked the same path along each candle throwing salt into each wavering flame.

"_Seven are the power centers of the body_

_Seven are the planes of the Universe_

_Seven are the notes of the musical scale_

_Seven are those that dwell in the light."_

Holding the Tempus Infractus Scrolls in one hand, she grabbed one last handful of red sand in her hand and stepped into the center of the star. Flinging her hand out towards the hole in the circle, the remaining sand rained down and closed the boundaries. The candle flames shot upwards in heightened intensity and an unearthly wind swept the hem of her cloak.

"The Circle is closed."

She set the book down at her feet and threw her arms out to the sides. Her cloak parted, revealing a thin-strapped, simple, white dress. Back straight, she threw her head back and recited the words of the ancient text. With each word the flames brightened and the wind picked up, sending her cloak billowing out around her.

When she was finished with the incantation. She added her own prayer to the Gods, to strengthen her work.

"_To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: _

_A time to be born and a time to die; _

_A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; _

_A time to kill, and a time to heal; _

_A time to break down, and a time to build up; _

_A time to weep, and a time to laugh; _

_A time to mourn and a time to dance; _

_A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; _

_A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; _

_A time to get, and a time to lose; _

_A time to keep, and a time to cast away; _

_A time to rend, and a time to sew; _

_A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; _

_A time to love, and a time to hate;_

_A time of war, and a time of peace."_

She poured everything she had into each word – _willing_ the spell to work. Passion filled her voice and her power built inside.

"_Time in its cyclic continuance cannot stop the power of light._

_Health and prosperity become war and famine,_

_Beauty fades and minds cloud,_

_But goodness and purity never outgrow time._

_They become stronger with each cycle;_

_Building upon the old, and creating new._

_Flesh to bones, and bones to dust_

_Light feels not these affects of time_

_Past to Present, Present to Future –_

_I break these boundaries,_

_Cast out my soul, and pray to the Gods._

_Help me shatter the cycle, and bring the seven together;_

_Warriors of good, missionaries of peace._

_Help me to save the people I love._

_Time! Begone from this place!"_

She screamed the last, heart thundering in her chest and the thrum of magick all around her. The wind continued to roar, and the flames danced in high arcing patterns, but nothing happened.

Her heart fell to the bottom of her feet.

"Hermione!"

She glanced up; Harry and Ron were standing on the boys' stairs.

"It's not working," she called dishearteningly, still holding her arms out for some semblance of hope.

"I told you this was too dangerous!" Harry shouted over the wind. No one seemed to care that they were probably waking up everyone in Gryffindor Tower.

"I had to try," She yelled back. "I was hoping it would call the Founders, but I'm just not strong enough..."

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stood buffeted by the winds. She had wanted so badly for this to work. She'd divested so much time and energy, that every hope she'd had for this war had sunk into the pages of the weathered tome. The spell had done nothing, but create a showy fog & mirrors effect.

Hermione let the bitter saline droplets roll over the curve of her lips. She didn't know if she had any hope left for the future...

"Hermione!"

The voices were closer now and her eyes snapped open to find Harry and Ron running towards her. "NO!" She shouted, but it was too late. They'd crossed the circle and grabbed a hold of her hands.

The minute the three touched the circle exploded upwards in screaming pillar of white light. Harry and Ron's magick pumped into her and like a human conduit all their power siphoned into her body and joined into one great force. As if it had a mind of its own it pushed against her flesh, demanding to be set free.

Her body was rejecting the amount of power being shoved into it all at once and she spasmed violently against her friends. They might have said her name, but all she could hear was the shriek of the wind. Her arms flung outwards and Harry and Ron were both sent rocketing to opposite sides of the circle. They landed on their feet behind the white candles, in the empty space between two points and were held there by an invisible force.

Hermione's arms were out at her sides again, palms facing up. The wind was near painful now, biting against her skin and forcing the cowl of her cloak back off her head. Her untamable curls spilled free and twisted into disjointed patterns above her in a cinnamon halo. Her bare feet left the ground; the power of her and her friends levitating her straight off the carpet.

"_SEVEN ARE THOSE THAT DWELL IN THE LIGHT!_" As she shouted the words she shoved all the gathered magic into her words and into the spell.

Hermione closed her eyes and let every bit of magick seep out of her – she would take nothing to chance. When she opened her eyes again four pillars of red light had filled the remaining empty spaces between the star's points.

"Time – let go your grip!"

The red light disappeared, and what the trio saw shook them with disbelief. It was not the Four Founders that had been brought through time, as Hermione had anticipated.

Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Lily Evans completed the star.


	3. II Ignorance is Bliss

When the Marauders' vision cleared the first thing they saw was Hermione. She wasn't beautiful like Lily or the other girls they knew, but she was awe-inspiring. Power rolled off her in waves and the white she wore was a sharp contrast to her dark hair. She hovered calmly in the air as wind billowed her cloak impressively out behind her, seeming to not notice the hurricane around her. She was no ordinary witch.

Hermione landed, still charged from her casting, and knelt down to brush a hole in the sand circle. The magick concealed within broke. The flames sizzled out and the wind disappeared. When she straightened again she put a hand to her forehead and tried not to hyperventilate.

"I thought this spell was to bring back the Founders," Ron said absently.

Hermione huffed at him and kicked the scrolls' book shut with her foot. "Not exactly. But the translation said seven warriors joined through time. I figured the Founders would be four, but I didn't know the other three."

"Only four came though," he pointed out, to which Hermione frowned and rested her chin on her fist.

"We're the last three..." Harry said softly.

Hermione whirled around to look at him in surprise. "Surely you're joking?" She exclaimed with a nervous laugh.

"We brought them back to life!" he shot back, gesturing to the Marauders. They were now looking very confused.

Hermione tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She crossed over to Harry and laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "No...we _didn't_, Harry," she said slowly. "We brought them through time."

"Then how is Harry still here?" Ron pointed out.

Hermione did her best to keep both of them calm. "They are existing in two times right now, their present and ours. The past is still intact – the future is what's about to change."

"Excuse me..."

Hermione turned around in surprise to face Lily. "Yes?"

"Can you please tell us what's going on?" She asked, growing bolder. "One minute we were sleeping at Hogwarts, and the next—"

"You're still at Hogwarts," Hermione informed her. "But this is a very different one than you're used to. I'm Hermione Granger, this is Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter." She held out her hand. "Welcome to 1997."

No one took her hand.

The Marauders stared at her, slack-jawed with disbelief. "We're in the future?" James stammered.

"Yup!" Ron answered, more cheerfully than Hermione felt. This was a disaster.

"Can we go to Dumbledore now?" Harry demanded. Hermione noticed he was working very hard not to look at any of the Maruaders. She was surprised she wasn't having as difficult a time standing in the same room as them, when the last of them had died the school year before.

Hermione threw up her hands. "Of course."

She waved everyone to the door, but only Harry and Ron moved.

"We're not going anywhere," Sirius said firmly.

"They don't believe us," Harry said flatly, but Ron started to laugh.

"Oh, alright," Hermione muttered. "I'll field this one."

She started with Sirius. "Sirius Black, Padfoot, dog," she recited into his surprised face.

"James Potter, Prongs, stag."

"Lily Evans, in love with James, girl," she added lamely.

"Remus Lupin, Moony," She hesitated a moment, then sighed. "...werewolf."

He looked at her with such horror that it made her think of everything he'd had to go through when he'd been at school. She'd only known him as her DADA professor, and never before had she thought back to what kind of secret life he must have led. Still, if there had been any way to convince the Marauders of where they were that was it.

"I'm sorry if this all too sudden for you, but you have to trust us," she told them honestly. "You all know Dumbledore. Please, come with us and he'll explain everything."

It was Lily who stepped forward, moving from behind James and walking up to Hermione. "You haven't given us any reason to distrust you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione smiled and gestured to where Ron was holding open the portrait. Lily nodded in passing, and didn't look back. Hermione turned to James next. "How 'bout you James? Where the lady goes you go?" The boy flushed and shuffled after Lily mumbling something incoherent.

"Follow the leader?" She made it a question to the remaining two. Sirius grinned suavely.

"I'll have you know, _I'm_ the leader," he said sidling up to her.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and walked away. "Whatever you say," she called over her shoulder.

And so, in one big group the seven of them stepped out of Gryffindor Tower and headed down to Dumbledore's office.

Hermione sped up her pace to catch up to Harry and she leaned to close to whisper in his ear. "Are you alright?"

"It doesn't feel real," he whispered back, and Hermione was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

Hermione threw an arm over his shoulder and hugged him sidearm. "Don't think about their deaths, Harry," she said. "They're here now – be happy."

Harry smiled. "You're squeezing me too tight with your awesomely buff muscles..." he teased softly.

She swung at him, but he ducked out of the way and took off down the hall, Hermione chasing after. Ron was left behind with the Marauders, shaking his head at the pair.

The Marauders all hanging back behind Ron, watched the pair with unbridled curiosity.

"They seem nice enough," James mused.

Lily swatted the arm that was laced through her own. "Of course they are!" She reprimanded. "And those two look so cute together."

"You think they're together?" Sirius asked, sounding more than a little put out.

"They act like James and Lily," Remus commented, to which James stuck out his tongue.

"If you're talking about Harry and Hermione..."

They all jumped to see Ron looking back at them, his arms folded behind his head. He laughed at the suggestion they'd been making. "...they'd probably split a seam laughing at you lot if you thought they were dating."

"Really?" Lily pressed, sounding surprised.

Ron nodded. "The three of us don't work like that," he explained. "And Hermione," he laughed. "She's just weird."

"Ronald Weasley!"

The Marauders stifled their laughter as a chastised look appeared on the redheads face. "Yes? Best friend Hermione?" You could hear Harry's sniggering all the way down the hall.

"Get down here! _You're_ the one who has to wake up Dumbledore!"

--

"Twenty two years in the future..." Remus repeated softly.

"Woah." Sirius said.

James agreed, "Yeah."

"What should we do, Professor?" Hermione asked strongly, trying to get back to business.

Dumbledore pushed his half-moon spectacles higher up on his long nose and looked at Hermione in a kindly way. "I don't believe things have turned out as unfortunately as you think, Miss Granger. The scrolls said the spell would join seven warriors of light into one time, and, if I'm not mistaken," he chuckled lightly at his own joke. "I count seven young witches and wizards before me."

"Professor, with all due respect, I don't think I—"Hermione began.

"My dear Miss Granger," Dumbledore looked down at her and smiled. "You never cease to astound me. You doubt the strength of yourself, when others have put their complete faith in you."

There was a redness in her cheeks that hadn't been there before, and when she cleared her throat her hands had nervously settled in her lap. "Perhaps that is a discussion best save for another time, sir."

Dumbledore nodded his consent and Hermione hurriedly made the switch in topics. "What should we do about these four?" She asked. "They're continuing to live their lives in _their_ present, but they are also here in ours..."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose that over the next few days the experiences and memories of their adult lives will develop in their minds. At this moment, I feel that they may perhaps be too..._shaken_ _up_ to be thinking properly."

Sensing that Hermione was getting frustrated, Ron stepped in. "Sir, what about the others? Surely people are going to notice the names, and how they look – people are going to put together the pieces and wonder why these four aren't dead."

"May I see the scrolls again please?"

Hermione nodded and turned the book back so that it faced the Headmaster. Squinting through his glasses, he skimmed over the ancient words 'hmm'ing and 'mmm'ing every so often. Just when Hermione was about to burst, Dumbledore leaned back and closed the book.

"I do not think that will be an issue, Mister Weasley. You see, this spell includes a strong memory alteration charm."

Lily picked it up first. "You mean..."

"Yes, Miss Evans." Dumbledore gave her an impressed smile. "Everyone but the eight of us will believe you are _meant_ to be here."

"I didn't think..." Hermione stopped before she could finish. "How could I—"

"I have hear tell, Miss Granger, that the three of you spent your summer vacations differently than most." Dumbledore said conversationally. Hermione's mouth snapped shut.

The Marauders could only look on as the scene unfolded before them.

Harry and Ron both opened their mouths to speak, but Hermione held up a hand and they fell silent. Very slowly she stood up and clasped her hands in front of her.

"I should have told you from the start, sir, but I couldn't afford for someone to stop us." She took a deep breath. "Since the end of last term we've been using the invisibility cloak to sit through the Ministry's Auror training. We all passed and are now full-fledged Aurors though not legally recognized."

Sirius and James gave her impressed looks, but both Lily and Remus were shocked.

"That's not all is it?" Dumbledore said, in a way that belied he already knew her next words. The Marauders exchanged looks. How could there be more?

"No, sir," She said evenly. "Ron, Harry, and I have been meeting nearly everyday this summer, and during that time," she let out a slow breath, "I've been teaching them Dark magick."

"Miss Granger." Dumbledore's expression was blank. "Do you realize the implications of what you've just disclosed to me."

She nodded, "Yes, sir. And you have only my word to believe that we are not Death Eaters."

"For most, Miss Granger, _your_ word is enough."

"Sir, I insist on taking full responsibility for our actions. Ron and Harry would have never gone along if I hadn't insisted on it."

Harry and Ron both rose in protest, but Dumbledore held up his own hand, much the same way Hermione had done, and the two of them fell wordlessly back into their seats.

Then he stood up as well.

"Too many witches and wizards have I seen stop before they've even begun to scratch the surface of their potential." He smiled down at her, and Hermione calmly waited for him to finish. But inside she was a ball of nerves. "I didn't think there were any of your kind left, Miss Granger. A person who's willing to reach for the stars to protect their friends."

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Thank you, sir," she said finally.

"There is no Dark magick, only magick more powerful than most," He told her. "I trust your judgment in this matter."

"I understand, Professor."

He sat back down, tucking his beard beneath the edge of the desk and folding his hands in front of him. Then he smiled. "Miss Granger – I seem to have something in my ear this whole time, and haven't heard a word you said."

Ron and Harry sighed with relief. The Marauders looked very much confused.

"Was there something you needed?"

Hermione was smiling in relief as well as she shook her head. "No, sir. We just came by to see how your summer went. We didn't realize how late it was."

He patted her hand in grandfatherly sort of way. "That's quite alright, my dear. We can talk more about our holidays in the morning, hmm?"

"Of course, Professor," Harry answered. "Sorry for bothering you."

Soon they had ushered everyone out of his office and down into the hall.

"What was that all about?" Sirius exclaimed as soon they were clear of the staircase. "Dumbledore's completely lost it!"

Hermione didn't step up to explain, so Ron did it for her. He pretty much repeated the words she'd used on the train, but she wasn't really listening. Her fast pace put her ahead of the others and she made no move to slow or say anything at all.

When they got back to the common room, Harry and Ron began cleaning up, while Hermione turned to the Marauders.

"The boys dormitories are on the left and the girls are on the right. If you'd like you can all stay in my room over there," she pointed to the door that lead to the Heads' quarters. "We'll get things sorted out in the morning."

Thank you," Remus said for all of them.

Hermione nodded, looking suddenly very tired. She seemed a completely different person than the all-powerful witch that had brought them forward in time. "I want to apologize for bringing you here," she said quietly, but quickly. "You can't return to your time and it's entirely my fault."

The Marauders all protested. "Hermione..." Ron tried to dissuade her, but she wouldn't hear it.

"No, Ron," she said. "I know that I can't be helping the situation any, but I really just want to go upstairs and go to bed. I promise I'll be cheerful in the morning."

Quickly saying her goodnights she disappeared up the girls' dormitory staircase and closed the door.


	4. III A Change in Memory

A/N: The VOTING booths have now opened. Because it's a bit of a minor subplot at the moment I haven't given much thought to Hermione's pairing. I actually had a lively debate will the guy in my study class on whether or not an academic female would go for another academic male, or for more of a bad boy. Well, now YOU get to decide. Review, and let me know whether you think lovable Remus deserves Hermione or if charming Sirius needs to get the girl. (And, yes, sorry, but those are your only choices). I've left opportunities open for the both of them, so it could go either way.

True to her word, Hermione bounded down the stairs the next morning with boisterous enthusiasm. Checking the underside of her wrist for the time, she hurried up the opposite staircase and knocked loudly on the door.

"Harry, Ron! Wake up," she called in a phony sing-song voice. "You'll miss breeeeakfast."

The door swung open revealing a very rumpled Sirius in nothing but a pair of pajama pants. Hermione, though an only child, had spent the last five years keeping her two male friends on track, and by now the sight of a shirtless teenage boy was nothing out of the ordinary. She hardly even noticed.

Sirius' yawn turned to a look of surprise as he realized who was standing at the door.

"Morning sunshine," she teased brightly, and slipped past him into the room.

He made a grab for her, but he was still groggy from sleep and his reflexes were a bit too slow to stop the unaware Hermione. "Hermione! I don't think—"

"Good morning, Remus," she said pleasantly, passing straight by the red-faced boy as he scrambled to find his shirt.

She approached the first bed – Remus hurrying to redress and Sirius regarding her with an amazed expression – and when she found its lumpy shaped occupant still asleep she frowned.

"Ronald Weasley!" She called bouncing down onto the side of the bed.

When he didn't stir, she gave a dramatic sigh and flung herself back onto the lump beneath the blankets. Someone grunted from under her and there was a very distinct "Oy, Herm...nee. Geroff! You're...heavy."

This comment was rewarded with a sharp prod from Hermione's wand and a bedraggled Ron tumbled out of the sheets and onto the floor. Shaking his fist in Hermione's direction, he heaved himself off the floor and blearily made his way to his trunk, wearing only a pair of Quidditch bedecked boxers.

"I told _best friend_ Ron I'd come and wake him up if he slept in, didn't I?" Hermione said in response, mocking Ron's earlier words.

He didn't seem the list bit uncomfortable with Hermione walking around the boy's dormitory while he was half-naked, and Hermione was ignoring him completely – her job of waking him now accomplished –, and she moved on to Harry while Ron grumbled something inarticulate about her, head stuck in his clothes chest.

Luckily for Harry, the commotion had already awoken him, and he was just emerging from the covers, messy ebony head peaking out around his pillow, when a well aimed disarming spell from Hermione knocked him straight out of bed, head first. His t-shirt and shorts were rumpled, but he was fully dressed, which was more than the rest of them could boast.

While her two mates stumbled around getting dressed, she turned to Sirius and Remus, who had since located his wayward pajama shirt.

"Oh," she interjected, pensively. "I don't suppose you have any uniforms, do you?" She asked, though it was more a statement than a question. Her fingers clasped her chin for a moment and then her eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers.

Easily dodging clothes and quills that lay scattered about the floor already, she hurried to the large wardrobe against the third wall, only stopping along the way to pick up books.

"Boys," she could be heard muttering. "Really! It's only the first day of term," she said a bit louder.

When she returned from her excursion it was without books and two boys' uniforms in her arms instead. She handed the slightly smaller set to Remus who answered with a small "thank you".

"So do you guys get to dress her, too?" Sirius asked, buttoning his shirt.

Hermione laughed. "You wish, Black" Ron taunted, allowing Hermione to brush imaginary lint off his robes.

"Ron and Harry are completely hopeless," she told Sirius and Remus wistfully. "I should have knocked them to the curb years ago."

She glanced back at them while she was talking and did a double-take before 'tsking' disparagingly. Sirius was startled when she was suddenly in front of him, hands reaching upwards for his face. But she was only fixing the mess he'd made of his tie, going up on her tiptoes to lift his collar and straighten out the loop.

"And it seems, Mr. Black," she said, her eyes twinkling merrily as she tightened the knot all the way up to his throat. "That you are as hopeless as the rest."

He smirked down at her as she flattened his collar back down, and, as soon as she turned away, he yanked the knot down past his shoulders.

"I'll let you dress me anytime, pigeon," he responded charmingly.

"_Sirius_," Remus admonished in a hushed tone.

"I have a name, you know," was Hermione's slightly irritated response.

Sirius smiled winningly. "Is that so, love?" He asked; the husk to his voice more prominent as he leaned against a bedpost in the way that made young witches swoon in their Mary Janes. Hermione merely ignored him.

"Remus, here, seems to be the only one of you lot who can properly dress himself," she scolded, saving a warm smile for Remus. He smiled back.

"I do what I can," he said, and Hermione's laughter echoed up the stairwell behind her.

"Do you think we could get her to do that every morning?" Sirius joked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as the boys followed after her.

Ron groaned, rubbing his head ruefully. "Are you kidding?" He exclaimed. "Try getting her to _stop_!"

Lily and James were already waiting with Hermione in the common room when the four boys tumbled down the stairs. They had on new uniforms as well; though, they looked much more awake than the rest. They'd slept in Hermione's room.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione," Harry mumbled, scratching his head. "What time is it?"

"Quarter 'til eight; the same time I've woken you up the past six years," she reminded him, pulling her satchel onto her shoulder. She smiled at the Marauders. "Sorry if you feel a bit rushed. Sometimes I forget Ron and Harry are the only ones who can eat breakfast in ten minutes. I could wake you up earlier, if you'd like?"

"You don't have to," Lily insisted. "We wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

Ron snorted, and Hermione shot him a look before waving Lily's comment away. "Nonsense, I've been up for ages."

"Please, tell me you haven't started homework already, Hermione," Harry pleaded.

"If you thought more about your schoolwork and less about saving the world you would have too," she shot back defensively and pushed through the portrait, out into the hall.

"She's a piece of work, isn't she?" Sirius smirked, leaning against the door frame.

"Aye," Harry agreed. "But she's a good friend."

"She sounds like your type of girl, Moony," James added, thumping the smaller boy on the back.

Remus flushed, "Don't be daft, James."

Harry and Ron were trying to get their shocked expression in order as the Marauder boys talked about their best friend like, well, teenage boys. It wouldn't have been so weird if they hadn't seen Sirius and Remus as men in their thirties, and if Lily and James weren't Harry's parents.

Ok, so it could have been a lot less weird.

The conversation continued down the hall until they caught up with Hermione, at which point they were smart enough to change topics. Harry got a hold of her satchel and tugged her backwards by it until they walked at the same pace.

"How could you possible have gotten your homework already?" He asked, resignedly, knowing he'd have to hear it sooner or later.

Hermione had the decency to blush, "I had all my professors owl their lesson plans with my term letter," she explained quickly. "I would have started sooner, but we were so busy this holiday—"

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron groaned simultaneously.

"What?!" She exclaimed. "You know I'm assisting Professor Snape this term, I had to memorize the lesson plans and—"

"SNIVELLUS?" James blurted out. "Works _here_?"

Ron nodded darkly, "I still don't see why you have to work for that git. He _hates_ Gryffindors."

"It'll look good on my transcript," she shrugged indifferently to their arguments. "Besides, I really like Potions and I'm good at it – all he'll do is billow around and insult me personally. No matter how broody he gets he can't hurt my transcript because he thinks my hair is too bushy or that I'm an 'insufferable know-it-all'," she quoted the last with a rather good impersonation of Snape's nasally voice.

They all laughed at her accurate portrayal, and Ron threw an arm around her shoulders. "Do I even want to know how long you've been up?" He asked with his normally joking disposition present in his voice.

"Since half-past," she answered innocently enough.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Half-past _what_, best friend Hermione?"

"Five."

He groaned loudly and started banging his forehead on her shoulder. She just rolled her eyes and kept walking.

"We didn't get back to the common room until past one," Lily recounted aloud, with more than a little incredulity to her tone.

"You don't look like you've only had four hours of sleep," Sirius declared, appearing at her other shoulder and looking down at her. The sides of her hair had been barretted back giving him a clear view of her face.

"How _do_ I look?" She asked evenly. Sirius literally stopped walking in surprise, and she held his gaze for a second before turning back to Ron as they neared the Great Hall doors, leaving Sirius behind.

James and Lily passed by him – James' hands in his pockets and Lily holding loosely to his arm. She merely smiled in a knowing sort of way passing, but James didn't bother hiding his snickering.

"Smooth, mate," was Remus' softly teasing comment before he followed after Lily and James. Sirius, shaken out of his stupor, jogged to catch up.

"She's feisty," he remarked, rubbing his chin. He watched Hermione laugh shamelessly at something Ron had said to her.

"Sharp as a razor," James affirmed. He grinned wolfishly at Sirius. "You think you're up to the challenge, Padfoot?"

"She certainly full of surprises," was his distracted reply.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry were waiting for them at the large doors.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

They all nodded.

"Now we'll see if Dumbledore was right..."

He heaved the doors open and the group stepped inside.

Casually, imperceptibly, Hermione moved in front of the group, while Harry and Ron slipped off to the sides, centering the Marauder's in a dense triangle. Sirius wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't still been looking at Hermione. She went to smooth her skirts and made a small movement with her wrist.

Hermione's wand was out from Merlin knows where, and by the position of her arm she held it hidden in the pleats of her skirt. Sirius knew without looking that Ron and Harry had drawn their wands as well, but he wasn't certain his friends had noticed any changes in the three. They really were ready for the worst.

But no one so much as acknowledged their entrance. Those who did look up went quickly back to their breakfast – rushing to finish before class. Everyone's memory had been modified.

The seven of them sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table; Ron, Harry, and Hermione looking as normal and relaxed as ever. Sirius sat on her right and Lily took her left, sitting at the end of the long table with James across from her. Next to him were Remus, Ron, and Harry.

"'Mione, pass the pancakes," Ron asked, before he'd even finished seating himself.

With both hands, Hermione lifted the laden platter from down by the end over to Ron's reach. She'd put her wand away and Sirius hadn't even seen her do it.

Helping himself to some bacon and sausage before it was snatched away by James for Lily (who was too polite to do it herself), he leaned over to whisper conspiratorially into Hermione's ear. "Don't think I didn't see that, pigeon."

Hermione smiled into her goblet of pumpkin juice, but not before she told him off for not using her proper name.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Lily asked, realizing Hermione's plate was empty, as she tried to scrape the last semblances of butter from the dish.

"Already did, but thanks," she responded politely, effectively stirred from her mental rant of stupid nicknames.

"Hermione eats whenever it's convenient for her studies," Harry informed them, swallowing a large bite of food.

"Which means never," Ron elaborated, laughing at his own joke.

"I did my work down in the kitchens this morning so I wouldn't wake anyone," she told them. "I ate there."

She pulled her book bag into her lap and pulled a stack of parchments out. "I got everyone's schedules from Dumbledore already." She handed them out. "And I had a few extra minutes before I had to wake up Harry and Ron so I went back and compared the maps of Hogwarts from both our times just to make sure none of your classes got moved," she told the Marauders. "They should all be the same except Transfiguration is on the first floor, not the third. If you get in a fix, ask a portrait and they'll help you out."

Harry was shaking his head at her and he and Ron exchanged a look, but she ignored them.

"Well, while I'd love to stay and talk with such terrible friends," she jibbed brusquely after a glance at her watch. "I promised Professor Knoll I'd help set up today's lesson."

Lily glanced at her schedule, brushing her long red locks over her shoulder. "Defense Against the Dark Arts; we have that first."

"We'll come with you," Ron suggested, but it was more a spray of toast crumbs than anything else.

"Why don't you digest your food first," she suggested and stood up. She was half-turned to go when some sudden thought made her turn back.

"You like Defense Against the Dark Art, don't you Remus?" She asked, "Would you like to come with?"

"Sure," he readily agreed, smiling. He wiped his mouth off on his napkin and pushed his plate back so he could stand. His schedule he folded into a neat square and tucked into his pocket before coming around to Hermione's side.

"We'll see you in a little bit," Hermione said in parting and she and Remus head out of the Great Hall.

James was the one who said it, but Sirius was the one whose eyes followed them out.

"Looks like another challenger just stepped into the ring."

---

"Granger! Come move these cages!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Remus and left him to finish distributing the wooden stands to each table. She'd hoped that something familiar might make him feel more at home here in the future. She wasn't sure where to start for the others, but Harry might have an idea. She'd ask him when he got here. She hurried to the front of the room where her professor was standing behind her desk.

Professor Knoll, who, now starting her second consecutive year, held the record for holding the position the longest, was a loud, slightly crazed, woman in her late fifties. She liked wearing robes of various vibrant colors and pointy witches' hats with large feathers and gems. When she got excited her crinkly hair would begin falling out of the loose twist in graying brown wisps. She also had a very long wooden pointer she was fond of waving around.

As Hermione hurried through the aisle, Knoll took said pointer and rapped it along the bars of the metal cage on the pedestal up front. It made a clanking noise like that of an inmate's cup rattling across the prison bars.

"Come on, come on!" The woman barked. "Put that cage up there on that hook right up there."

The stick was flourished around in the air, bumping every few swings the dangling chain from which the cage was going to be hung.

Hermione dragged a stool underneath the hook and went to pick up the cage. It was heavier than she'd originally thought, but she was reluctant to levitate it on the chance that it would leave a magic residual irritating to the creature that would be sitting in said cage.

Tucking her wand behind her ear, she shifted the gold gilded cage in her arms and climbed up onto the stool. It had a bit of a wobble to it at first, but it stabilized after a moment.

She had to prop the bottom on her hip to free the hand necessary to grab the chain and she hooked it to the top of the cage. Gradually letting go until she was sure it wouldn't fall, she brushed her hands off on her skirt and looked down.

Remus was holding her stool steady.

Unconsciously, Hermione felt her face flush; soft red spreading across her cheeks. It was true that Ron and Harry were never so considerate and it was an entirely foreign gesture, but there was just the tiny hint of something else – the something that had made her blush.

When she was confidant she could speak properly she thanked him and, using his shoulders to balance herself, hopped off the stool. Avoiding eye contact, she skirted around him and busied herself with rechecking the supplies on each table.

"Everything's there," Remus' voice came from right behind her.

Hermione jumped. "Right, right," She stammered. "Of course."

She saw his eyebrows go up in surprise and cursed at herself. She probably sounded like some rambling idiot. _Get it together, Hermione!_

"Just giving it all its proper three times check over," she justified, pulling her wits back around herself.

He chuckled softly at something, his eyes falling to the ground before rising back to meet hers. They were gunmetal blue, the color of an overcast sky. "I already did," he said, revealing the cause of his humor.

Lips twitching at the corners, Hermione couldn't help but smile softly. "Oh..." was all she managed.

"_Bloody HELL!_"

Both of them jumped at the booming curse. Professor Knoll was brandishing her wooden pointer between them like a sword.

"If the two of you beat around the bush anymore you'll uproot it," she swore noisily to which Hermione burned bright red and Remus had a face to match. "The two of you have been going at it like this since last term—"

"We have?!" Hermione blurted out incredulously.

"—and I'm getting _bloody tired_ of it," Knoll told them in a warning sort of voice. "So just stop flitting about and have at it, will you?!" Her blunt demand was punctuated by the loud smack of wood on wood, her pointing stick slamming onto the top of her desk.

They glanced awkwardly at one another and immediately looked away again, turning even redder. "The spell," Hermione mumbled, turning pink at the implications of her massive memory altercation. "_Sorry_."

"Speak up, dear! _He can't hear you like that_!"

Hermione had actually lifted a hand to shield her flushed face from Remus and Knoll, when they were both saved by an entry into the room. It was Sirius, followed promptly by James who was sporting a fine pair of ass ears (probably courtesy of Sirius).

"Sirius," Remus called. "I wanted to talk to about the thing, that, er, the thing we were talking about earlier," he rambled, practically running to the other boy.

"James! Let me help you with those," Hermione said, nearly simultaneously, though more articulately than Remus. She didn't run, but the clicking of her Mary Jane shoes was furious against the cobble floors.

James had stopped chasing Sirius, and they both stared in bewilderment as the pair descended upon them. James, helpfully, sat down in a desk so Hermione could banish his donkey appendages, but Sirius ignored the flustered Remus, looking over the shorter boy to Hermione.

"What's the matter, pigeon?"

"Stop calling me that!" She snapped, cheeks still slightly flushed from her earlier embarrassment.

James shot Sirius a confused look as Hermione continued to fuss with his hair, even after the ears were gone. Sirius just shrugged, looking just as puzzled.

"Hermione," James soothed slowly, reaching up and taking a hold of her wrists. He looked concerned. "They're gone."

The red flared back to life in her cheeks. "Right. Sorry."

"Are you al—"James didn't get to finish.

"Harry!" She rushed; her relief a weight tangible to the rest of the room. Harry was now standing in the doorway, Ron and Lily behind him.

"Hermione?"

Everyone seemed to be giving her that befuddled look today.

"Help me get this last cage up," she insisted, grabbing a hold of his sleeve and pulling him up with her to the front of the class. Along the way, he deposited his bag on a chair and jogged to meet her pace so that she no longer had to drag him by the cuff.

He started to ask her what was the matter – her flustered and antsy behavior an undeniable giveaway – but she set about moving the stool to underneath the second hook, and he had no choice but the pick the cage off the floor and carry it over to her.

As she took it out of his hands, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear so that no one else would hear. "That stupid spell worked," was what she said.

Harry pulled back to give her a quizzical look.

"The whole school thinks I'm secretly in love with _Remus_," she hissed, mortified beyond belief.

He stared at her a moment...and then he started to laugh.

Hermione scowled and wrenched the cage out of his hands. Harry just doubled over with laughter. A seething Hermione climbed up and fastened the second cage on the hook, glaring all the while at the wall across from her.

"It's not funny."

"You're right," he choked out. "It's _hilarious_."

She jumped off with an angry **clack!** onto the cobblestones as soon as she was finished, and the first thing she did was give him a violent punch in the arm. He wasn't laughing anymore.

"OW!"

"I hope it leaves a horrid bruise," she told him in frustration.

He dismissed her with a roll of his eyes, "Well you don't really, do you?"

"Don't what?" she huffed.

"Like him."

"Don't be an idiot," Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She lowered her voice. "I knew him when he was twenty years older than me, Harry. I mean, come on!"

"You knew Sirius in his thirties, too," he added.

By this time, Hermione had lost any semblance of understanding what their conversation was now about. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Harry shook his head and pulled the stool behind him and back beside the professor's desk. "You can be as dense as Ron, sometimes," he told her. "And shut your mouth – he's staring."

Hermione looked back automatically. Sirius was staring at her intently, bright blue eyes smoldering. He smiled that lop-sided half-smile she'd thought only Harry could perfect, and she was blushing yet again. Quickly, she turned back to Harry.

"This is _weird_," she whispered.

"Sirius and Remus don't seem to share your discomfort..." He trailed off. Sticking his hands in his robe pockets he turned and strolled back to the room's rear.

"You're not going to help me with this?!" Hermione accused, but she was talking to his back.

"Oh, no," he called back over his shoulder. "This is going to be fun."

"I hate you," she hissed vehemently, glaring daggers at his back.

His response was; "Then you won't mind if I sit with Lily and James."

"No, Harry—" But he was already sitting down next to his mum, easily joining into the conversation they'd been having before him. He was ignoring her.

Classmates were now starting to swarm in as the time for class to start drew near and she had to push her way to where Ron was sitting with Seamus Finnegan. There was still an open seat at the table – thank Merlin. She hurried to occupy it, but when she got close enough to hear their conversation, she stopped short. Quidditch. Yuck.

Unfortunately for her, her moment's indecision was all it took for Dean Thomas to step up and slide into her desired seat. _Frell!_

"Hermione – there's a seat open back here at Remus and Sirius' table."

Glaring at Harry with every ounce of loathing she possessed, Hermione backtracked and headed for the last place on earth she wanted to be sitting. The last table of the middle row. Harry was two tables up on the left and Ron was two ahead in the same row – both too far away if she needed an emergency rescue.

Steeling herself up, she walked briskly to the table where Sirius and Remus were sitting, and – just her luck – was forced to take the chair in between them. Some days just suck, and some days Fate draws your name out of a hat and decides to make it a living hell. Hermione was thinking this just might be one of those days.


	5. IV Marauders Drafted

A/N: Voting still open. Remus is currently in the lead, and I was surprised to read how many SB/HG supporters picked Remus. Ah well, keep voting and have your say in the story! A few SB/HG moments in this chapter to even everything out.

--

--

Hermione slid in between Sirius and Remus and primly took her seat. It wouldn't do if she was blustering in embarrassment all over the place. One deep breath to calm her down and then she was unpacking her book and parchment, keeping herself busy until class started. Eventually, however, there was nothing left to do and Hermione's gaze settled heavily on the room's bell, willing it to ring.

There was silence on either side of her – shouldn't they be talking about Quidditch? Soap? _Anything?!_ She was shifting anxiously in her seat and she caught herself before it went on. The bell stubbornly refused to ring.

"You're a bit jumpy, pigeon."

Hermione was so startled by the sudden sound she didn't even yell at him to use her proper name. She managed a wane smile and lied, "Yes, well, first day of classes and all that."

Sirius laughed.

"I'm excited too," Remus agreed. "I can't wait to see what classes are like in this time."

"It's not really any different," she mumbled, inking nonsensical doodles along the edges of her parchment to try and avoid conversation. It was a poor tactic, but this whole thing had completely bulldozed her first thing in the morning and her wits weren't quite about her yet.

"You're handcuffed to your books anyway, Moony; what does it matter if class isn't the same?"

"I think you're jealous because _you_ are going to fail," Moony grinned. His wand rapped the top of Sirius' head sharply. "In fact, you're positively _green with envy_." Remus smirked even as the syrupy feeling slid down Sirius skin.

Hermione glanced at Sirius and immediately sighed. His skin was a vibrant shade of acid green.

"You should know better than to _play with fire_," Sirius growled sportingly, and with a wave of his wand had Remus sweating profusely, face turning brick red.

"I'm playing _fair and square_, Padfoot," Remus panted, his collar now loose. A bright orange burst of light shot from the tip of his wand and hit Sirius right in the middle of his forehead. There was a horrendous crunching sound and the green Gryffindor had been transfigured into a body of cubes – looking very much like a box monster out of some kid's dream.

"Remus!" Hermione exclaimed in disbelief; taking one look at Sirius trying to grip his wand with fingers turned to rectangular prisms and forgetting her embarrassment entirely.

"What?!"

"If any of those hit me..." She swore warningly, letting the implied threat hang.

"She must have thought you were some kind of _stick in the mud_, Moony," Sirius chuckled, and held up his wand. He'd finally gotten a handle on it. Sizzling blue sparks sprayed into the air over the shorter boy and in seconds he was drenched with foul smelling mud.

Hermione had had enough; besides, there was a very real possibility that Remus-the-bog-monster was about to get mud all over her robes. Twirling her wand expertly, she interrupted their little duel with "An _eye for an eye_!"

There was bright white flash like a camera bulb going off and Sirius and Remus were restored to sorts.

"Bloody hell! I can't see!"

Almost.

Amid James loud guffaws, the bumbling of the pair as they tried to find their wands, and chuckles from the rest of the class, Hermione turned back to her parchment just as the bell finally – mercifully – rang. Knoll stood up and went right into the lesson, completely ignoring Sirius' cries of "I'm blind, I'm blind".

Lily finally took pity on them and, while Knoll was scrawling notes on the chalkboard, performed the countercharm on them both. Sirius shouted something about a "miracle", making the whole room erupt in laughter; Knoll went right on teaching. Sirius turned back to Hermione and was surprised to see a small smile on her face as she worked to copy down the lesson's notes.

"A bird after my own heart," he said suavely, throwing an arm over the back of her chair. She gave him a wry look out of the corner of her eye, but studiously focused on her parchment.

"You've had one all this time?" Remus feigned surprise.

Hermione giggled quietly and Sirius made a face at his friend. "Ha. Ha. Aren't you oh so witty this morning?"

"I cope with change by being charming," Remus replied in a blasé tone. "You cope by screaming a lot."

Hermione coughed into her hand and Sirius had the distinct impression that she was laughing. Oh sure, she smiles at his jokes, but laughed at Remus'? That's a candy bag's worth of fair.

"Hermione thinks my screaming is charming," he shot back smugly. "Right, pigeon?"

She was nibbling on her quill at the time and she stopped long enough to reply. "You scream like a girl," she told him, causing both Remus and the tables around them that had heard to dissolve into another round of laughter. "And learn to use my name properly, or I'll let James hex you."

Black tipped his chair back on its two rear legs, and grinned cheekily at Harry and James' table, arms folded casually behind his head. "I think she's warming up to me."

Hermione wished that one of these days Knoll would run her class more strictly. She rolled her eyes at Sirius to Remus, who smiled in return, and tried to tune out the loud voices around her.

She was saved from the antics by a raspy ribbit. She looked down as an origami frog hopped onto her desk and gave a dry croak. Picking it up into her palm she grinned two desks up at Ron, who was looking back at her. He waved and she laughed softly as the paper frog's throat bulged out and it ribbited again.

"What's that?" Sirius asked, leaning over her shoulder.

"Note from Ron," she replied absently.

She grabbed the frog's leg and pulled gently. With one last crinkling of paper the enchanted parchment unfolded and spread itself out flat in Hermione's palm. There was a warm breath on her cheek and she craned her neck awkwardly to find Remus leaning over her other shoulder. With both of them hovering so close, her face started to feel hot.

"What's the Aureus Prophecy?" Remus asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"You really shouldn't read other people's things, Remus," Hermione reprimanded, but her heart wasn't in it. She was quickly reading the parchment's contents.

They were given the short explanation. "It's some seventeenth century prophecy we found. Harry and Ron seem to think it's important, but I'm not so sure..." Hermione trailed off, her brow furrowing as she thought about the object of contention, her hand unconsciously inking a reply across the parchment.

Sirius cleared his throat. "You know..." he said slowly. "Divination _is_ one of my better subjects. I could take a look at it, if you'd like?"

Hermione looked at him so suddenly they almost knocked heads. In doing so, she didn't see Remus' frown. Her face was filled with surprise, but it was quickly being filled by a bright smile. "Yes," she enthused. "I would like that. Very much."

He grinned wolfishly down at her, "Anything for you, pigeon."

Hermione frowned at him, but couldn't seem to make it stick and turned quickly back to her notes as another smile formed across her lips.

Sirius was feeling better already.

--

--

The rest of the day passed by with a variety of entertainment.

The Marauders had obviously resigned themselves to the fact that they were stuck here for the time being and had fallen quickly into the swing of things with a resilience that amazed the others.

Just before Charms, Sirius and James set fireworks in all the wall torches that lined the hall and set them off just as a pack of first years were walking through it – much to Flitwick's annoyance.

Hermione had had Arithmancy with Lily and Remus just before lunch and then Astronomy with Sirius and James afterwards, but then they were all back together for Care of Magical Creatures. The last class of the day, Ancient Runes, was the only class where she was alone with Harry and Ron, whom she'd persuaded to take the course in order to speed up their research.

Oh, and apparently Harry and James were twins. Who knew.

--

--

"That memory charm of yours certainly isn't taking a back seat in the bleachers."

Lily and Hermione were talking about the day and the memory alteration over a shared treacle tart at the end of the Gryffindor table. James sat, typically, beside his girlfriend, and Harry was beside Hermione.

"Did you find out anything about you?" Hermione asked in interest, setting down her goblet of strawberry cordial to lean in intently.

"_Well_," Lily began dramatically, giggling a bit. "Apparently, James and I have been together since second year, when what really happened was I finally broke down to his begging in _fifth_."

Hermione laughed at this and chased a crumb around on the plate before catching it between the prongs of her fork and sticking it in her mouth.

"What about you?" Lily directed the question back at her. "Anything about you that's different than before?"

Hermione's face flushed light pink and she swallowed quickly. "Um, no, not really."

Lily pouted at this, clearly put out, and ran her fingers idly over a handful of her perfectly straight red hair.

"I'm sure if anything has changed you'll hear about it in the next few days," Hermione hurried out.

Lily seemed to think about this for a moment, and then she nodded resolutely. "You're right." She grinned then. "I'll let you know if I catch any juicy gossip about you."

The boys were having a completely different conversation.

"You know, guys can't do that," Sirius mused aloud, breaking the Quidditch-oriented thread of conversing.

"Do what?" Ron asked distractedly, maneuvering the bowl of mashed potatoes towards his plate.

"Share dessert." He nudged his head in the direction of the two girls, who were at that moment laughing over something one or the other had said. "We can steal food," he said, grabbing a drumstick off of James' plate. "But guys can't share it – it looks weird," he said simply.

"So we're not on for milkshakes after?" Remus feigned tears, sniffing dejectedly and talking in a high falsetto voice. The guys all laughed raucously earning odd looks from the girls before they went back to their own conversation.

Trying to hold in his own laughter, James added his own two cents – lowering his voice to their conversations hush in order for the girls not to overhear. "Sirius is right. Girls can do it, and it's hot. Guys..." He stopped short, using a weird face to finish the sentence.

"Are your conversations always this weird?" Ron asked, looking between the three Marauders.

Remus shook his head sadly, "Yes, unfortunately."

"Right now, if a guy tried to get a bite of that tart they'd lose an eye," Sirius was saying, completely ignoring Ron and Remus' sub-conversation.

Harry made a disgusted sound. "And I thought the Marauders were supposed to be ladies men." He gave a disappointed shake of his head.

"We are!" James and Sirius both yelled. Remus gave Harry a silent look of interest.

He pushed back his plate and stood up. The Marauders watched him suspiciously as he came around to the end of the table and crouched down between Lily and Hermione. "Hello ladies."

They both smiled, Hermione immediately giving him her complete attention.

"They're really close, aren't they..." Remus said softly.

Ron nodded a grin of his own settling on his face as he thought of his two best mates. "There have been times where Harry and I have been on our own, but he and Hermione have been through a lot of hard stuff together. They had to go back in time during our third year, and then when..." he stopped and restarted. "Someone Harry knew died during our fifth year, and he was really depressed for the longest time. Hermione was the only one who could bring him out of it – she helped him get through it. I don't know anyone who's closer."

"She sounds like an amazing witch," James told him.

Ron grinned and gave a low chuckle, "Some days I think she's the only thing that keeps us going."

"You give me too much credit, Ron," Hermione spoke up, startling the boys. Harry and Lily were still talking, so she was the only one who'd been listening in. She kissed his cheek. "Harry and I would be lost without you," she told him kindly and a stupid grin filled his face.

"_Hermiiiiiiiione_."

Everyone, remembering Harry, now turned their avid attention to the table's end.

"Can I have a bite of your tart?"

"Sure," she said, and pulled the fork slowly from between her lips to ensure that it was totally clean and then handed it to him.

He scooped a piece up into his mouth and handed the still crumby utensil back to Hermione. "Fanks, Hermnee," he said, swallowing the tangy dessert.

She smiled, ruffling his perpetually messy hair, and turned back to Ron. "Do you have the prophecy with you?" She asked, sticking the fork back in her mouth, unaware of the stares she was receiving.

He nodded and they both began digging through the redhead's whirlwind of a book bag, while Harry sat back down. They were all gapping at Harry, who merely wiped his mouth with his napkin and ignored them.

Sirius started to laugh. "Now _that_ was hot."

James punched him.

--

--

The seven of them were all lounged in front of the common room's large fireplace long after dinner had ended, talking, playing games, and, in some people's cases, doing their homework.

Remus had finally been persuaded to put aside his Arithmancy for a game of wizard's chess against James, and Lily looked to have fallen asleep with her head upon her Charm's book, but Hermione was still hunched over the table, quill flying furiously across the parchment.

"Hermione!" Ron called. "Put that bloody homework away and come sit with us."

"In a minute."

That minute stretched into five and then into twenty, with no sign of her hand tiring its endless movement down the parchment.

"I shall retrieve the fair maiden," Sirius vowed heroically, and heaved himself up off the floor.

Stuffing his hands deep in the pockets of his robes he strolled across the room to where Hermione was sitting (and Lily was snoozing) and pulled up a chair.

"Mm," she grunted in greeting, looking between two parchments and making a small mark on a third.

"Hello to you too, love," He chuckled.

"Mmm."

"How can I persuade you to come over with us?" He asked, folding his arms across the table and laying his head down upon them, facing her.

"I'm really quite busy, Sirius," she told him, dipping her quill back in the inkwell.

"So you _can _talk," he teased.

Her lips pursed in a small smile as she worked. "Mm hmm, but I'm still waiting to see if _you_ can be less annoying."

He laughed, taking it all in stride. "You're feisty, you know that?"

"Really..." she responded in a bored sort of tone.

"A regular spitfire," he said, sitting back up.

She wasn't really paying attention anymore. "I'll log that away."

He gave a dramatic sigh, and when she didn't respond he gave another one, turning doleful puppy dog eyes on her.

"What?" she demanded, rather snappily, and looking at him with an annoyed expression.

"You'd rather do your boring homework, than spend quality time with me," he pouted.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the collage of parchments spread in front of her. "It's not homework."

This perked Sirius' interest. "Then what _are_ you doing?"

"If you _must_ know, I'm outlining mine, Harry, and Ron's training schedules for the term," she resignedly said.

Sirius' eyebrows raised and he picked her arm up right off the parchment she was scribbling on and leaned over to look closer. Three of the parchments were the three class schedules; another was the Gryffindor Quidditch schedule. Among those were a few torn pieces that looked like scratch paper, and a list of school events.

Hermione looked pointedly down at him, lips quirked in a frown, but he didn't drop her arm and her quill dangled in the air from her fingertips, threatening to drip ink onto the pile of papers.

"Things really are bad in this time..." he looked up at her, his joking face gone serious. "Aren't they?"

Hermione nodded. "Everyone knows it, but most of the students haven't done anything to prepare."

She looked towards the fireplace, and Sirius followed her gaze to Harry. "I think they're all hoping that Harry will save them."

"Him?" Sirius was confused.

"He's gone up against Voldemort six times; five in the last six years," she told him, looking back at the Marauder. "He's the only one to have done that and survived."

Sirius looked back at the eighteen year old boy in amaze. He was playing Exploding Snap with Ron, sleeves rolled up and his tie knotted around his head. "He's just a kid!" Sirius exclaimed.

"That's why Ron and I aren't going to let him do this alone," Hermione said, nodding. "Every day we train might make the difference between living and dying."

They stared at each other without speaking, disbelief and a thousand thoughts running through Sirius' brain. Then, a determined look came onto his face and he set Hermione's arm back down and pushed back his chair.

"I'll be right back."

She watched him curiously as he walked away and crossed back over to where everyone was sitting around the fire. One of the arm chairs blocked her line of view and she craned her neck trying to see what he was up to. After a minute or two he started walking back around to her and Hermione quickly went back to working on the training schedule.

She felt him stop beside her chair and then there was a muted slam as he hand hit the table. Slowly, she looked up to his hand, pressing a pile of new parchments to the table in front of her, and then up to his face, her face crumbling into a mask of confusion.

"What—"

"Count us in."

She gave him a stern look. "Sirius, this isn't a joke."

"Neither was that spell you did," he countered. "You've got four new warriors – so train us Oh Mighty Training One."

She stared him down, face completely blank. But he was grinning, and all too soon Hermione found herself doing the same.

"You do know this will take even longer to organize now, don't you?" She tried to sound annoyed, but the wide smile on her face rather defeated the purpose.

"Nonsense, pigeon."

Her eyes narrowed as he began lining the schedules out beside one another. "Don't make me call James..." she threatened.

Pulling his wand out with a flourish that made Hermione laugh, despite herself, he tapped each of the nine schedules and said, "_Consensio!_"

They all jumped up and started chattering in some indecipherable language, while Hermione's quill leapt from her hand and began inking out the training schedule in her precise cursive script. When it was finished the papers said another indecipherable sort of goodbye and fell back down onto the table along with her quill.

Lying in front of Hermione was the group's finished schedule, words glistening with still wet ink.

Sirius blew on the end of his wand like some sort of Western cowboy, and smirked down at her. "Did I mention Charms was my best subject?"

Hermione laughed, cheeks dimpling and the corners of her eyes crinkling. "So now I suppose you want me to go back with you?"

"If Milady would be so kind," he said charmingly, executing a dramatic bow and earning another bout of laughter from Hermione.

With her head still on her Charm's book and eyes still closed, Lily's lips curved into a smile.

Hermione waved the parchments back into her satchel with her wand and stood up from the desk, stretching her arms gratefully over her head. When her back gave a satisfied pop after being hunched over for so long she sighed happily and straightened her uniform back out.

Sirius, throwing an arm over her shoulder, pulled her next to him. "See, guys!" Sirius called over to the boys hanging out around the fire. "I told you she was warming up to me."

Harry coughed loudly while the others laughed, and gave Hermione a pointed look. Her cheeks flamed pink and she stuck out her tongue at him.

"Nice face, pigeon."

She elbowed him painfully in the ribs. "_James!_" Hermione shouted.

James leapt up from his chair, wand in hand, and puffed out his chest impressively. "I shall avenge your name, kind maiden!" He vowed in an extravagant voice, while Remus wisely dragged Hermione to safety. "On guard!" He yelled, waving his wand like a sword.

Sirius drew his as well, and both boys grabbed couch pillows to use as shields. Sirius gave a ridiculous battle cry and they both leapt at each other, knocking over one of the armchairs as they dueled with their wands. Hermione crouched under the coffee table for protection, while the rest of the boys joined in the absurd looking fight.

A few minutes later, Lily crawled in beside Hermione and the two females of the group cheered on the men until, finally exhausted, they all headed up to their respective dormitories to sleep.


	6. V Notes and a Little Light Reading

Sirius voters had an overwhelming turnout after the last chapter and he's now come from behind to take the lead, putting the totals thus: Sirius: 9, Remus: 7, and for those hoping for a threesome: 2. I keep the vote updated on my bio if you're ever wondering.

Oh! And oodles of love to all of you who have so faithfully reviewed. There should be two more posts (at least) put up over the weekend. Next chapter – training, hooah!

--

--

Once again, Hermione was up bright and early the next day putting the finishing touches on the Astronomy chart due next week. She sipped the steaming cup of coffee the house elves had sent up and smiled at the scaled taste, and then took note of the time. Packing all her parchments neatly back into her bag along with her book she went to go wake Lily, the only girl in their dorm still asleep.

"Lily," Hermione called, shaking the redhead gently. "Lily, wake up."

There was a sighing yawn from the far side of the bed and Lily rolled over to face her – green eyes blinking steadily awake. "Morning," she yawned.

Hermione, adjusting the strap of her satchel, stepped back so Lily could swing her legs over the side of the bed and sit up. She rubbed her eyes tiredly as she stretched and yawned again. Pathetic.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her knew friend and started for the door. "I'm going to go wake the boys."

"WHAT?!"

She was certainly wide awake now.

"I'm going to go wake the boys," Hermione repeated.

"Hermione!" Lily stammered. "You can't – you can't do that!"

Honey colored eyes rolled. "It's not like they'll get up on their own, Lily."

"But it's the _boy's_ dormitory," Lily persisted.

She was surprised when Hermione actually laughed. "You're a bit odd, aren't you?"

"Me?" Lily's haw dropped. "_You're_ the odd one."

"Oh, come off it," Hermione snorted. "Who cares if they're guys – I've been waking Harry and Ron up for years. Now do you want to come help, or not?"

Lily looked torn. Apparently, they were a lot more proper in the 1970's – Hermione could care less about going up to boy's dormitory every morning. She'd learned very quickly that when they had double Potions every morning, Harry and Ron were going to lose Gryffindor a lot of points if they kept sleeping in.

"Maybe if you're lucky, James'll have his shirt off," she called over her shoulder as she headed out.

Lily was ready in two minutes flat.

When they knocked, there was a long moment where there was no sound. And then, a loud **thump!** followed by a string of curses was heard through the door until it was opened by a bleary eyed Ron.

"Tcha!" Hermione tsked, taking one look at him. "You look awful."

"Morning, Her—"His own yawn cut him off, mid-word. "—mione."

He caught sight of Lily and craned his neck to look over Hermione, where the redhead was hiding. "Oh," he yawned again. "Mornin', Lil."

She waved weakly.

"Have at 'em..." He mumbled and stepped aside so they could enter the room.

In a gesture of sympathy she handed him her coffee as she passed and his tired face immediately lit up. While he gulped down her drink, Hermione moved on to Harry, Lily clinging to the back of her robes and doing her best not to look at much of anything.

"Harry..." she whispered, crouching by his ear. "Slytherin just won the House Cup."

He woke up screaming.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" He yelled when he realized what she'd done; Hermione, on the other hand couldn't stop laughing. "Don't even joke!" he said.

"Ron's got coffee..."

He scowled. "You're forgiven..." he said, and pulled his shirt on over his head before heading over to steal the caffeine for himself.

"You can get James," Hermione told Lily, craning her head over her shoulder. "I'll get the other two bums." She was surprised all three had managed to sleep through Harry's screams of bloody murder.

Lily reluctantly pried herself off of Hermione's robes and headed towards the bed where James' head was hanging off the side. Hermione's next victim was Remus.

Dropping her satchel beside the bed she kneeled down alongside it and leaned forward onto the mattress. Shaking him gently as she had Lily, she murmured his name. "Remus. Breakfast."

His eyes opened slowly, and she waited until they focused on her. He jumped. "Herm—"she clapped a hand over Remus' mouth.

She was shushing him, but he was looking frantically through the covers for the shirt he'd neglected to leave on once again. Hermione's eyes rolled in exasperation and she grabbed his arm to make him stop.

"Stop being such a ninny," she admonished in a whisper. "I need you to help me wake up Sirius."

Slowly, she pulled her hand away from his mouth and grinned mischievously before placing a pillow in his hand and crawling away. She reappeared on the other side of Sirius' bed, pillow in hand, and motioned Remus closer. They both lifted their weapons of choice high into the air and, on Hermione's silent cue, brought them down on Sirius' sleeping form. They thumped him relentlessly from both sides until the disoriented Marauder rolled right off the bed.

The others had caught the tail-end of the show and were laughing loudly along with Remus and Hermione, who'd fallen back on Sirius' bed holding her stomach.

"Just the boxers today?" She laughed, when the battered Sirius used the bedpost to pull himself up off the floor.

He smiled slightly, posing for show. "I knew you were coming.

"Oh, I bet," she snorted, contemptuously, climbing back off the bed. She threw her pillow back on Ron's bed from where she'd snitched it and headed towards the large wardrobe.

Lily was sitting on James' bed as he wandered around, trying to look as if he knew what he was doing. With an exacerbated sigh, Hermione flung the wardrobe doors open and grabbed three fresh uniform sets.

She handed Remus his new shirt right off and laid the remaining pieces on his tousled bed. James' she handed to him before he wandered right out into the hallway. The last set she merely threw haphazardly onto Sirius' bed, and then turned to Ron and Harry who were still standing half-naked and huddled around the warmth of her coffee cup.

"Why are you so mean to me?" Sirius could be heard complaining as she pulled Ron's T-shirt right up over his head.

"Someone's got to bring that ego of yours down," she told him frankly. "Arm," she instructed to Ron and he slipped his arms into the shirt she held open for him.

She crossed around to his front and with deft, experienced fingers buttoned up the white dress shirt. After she knotted his tie properly and patted it down, she handed him his pants. "I trust you can put your own trousers on?"

He made a mocking expression, and Hermione turned away laughing to repeat the process on Harry. He handed back her coffee cup so that he could get his own trousers on and she was disappointed to find not a drop left.

"Thanks," she muttered and banished it with a flick of her wand.

Lily was dealing well with James, but when Hermione passed by the girl's face flamed bright red and she busied herself with making her boyfriend's collar just right. James on the other hand looked half catatonic. Remus was as well dressed as before and he gave her an overly exaggerated grin of pride that made Hermione chuckle softly.

Sirius was, as always, a mess.

He'd managed to tie his tie properly this time and all she had to do was straighten it. But his shirt was all scrunched and un-tucked. She smoothed it out by running her hands down his stomach and tugging on the hem. Making a quick circulatory loop, she tucked the excess material beneath the waistband of his trousers.

"I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me..." he smirked.

Hermione made sure to trod over his bare feet when she crossed back around to his front. Flicking off a few traces of dust, as he winced and flexed his toes experimentally to see if her Mary Janes had broken them, she took a step back to appraise her handiwork. She shrugged and headed for the door.

"Woah, woah, woah! What was that?!" Sirius demanded. He ran around in front of her, walking backwards so he could look at her. He mimicked her shrug. "That! What was _that_?"

"You look decent," she said with that some half-shrug.

"_Decent_?" He gasped incredulously. He stopped walking and Hermione had to stop as well to keep from bumping into him. "I'll have you know – I'm _gorgeous_."

Her tone was bland, "Now I know," and then she was stepping around him, Harry and Ron trailing after her demanding 'why the bloody hell classes had to start so bloody early'.

Remus and Lily followed quickly after, wanting to get some studying in while they ate breakfast, leaving James and Sirius alone in the now empty dormitory.

"Dude..."

Sirius growled in frustration.

"_Dude..._"

"I know!" Sirius shouted. James wasn't the least bit intimidated. In fact, the shorter boy was smiling as his friend turned away with scowl and ran a hand through his long hair.

"She's really getting to you, isn't she?" James gave him a sly look.

"Get that dopey grin off your face, Prongs."

"She is un-swayed by your charms, my good friend," was James' sage answer, bobbing his head knowingly like some Indian fortune teller.

"No, she's not."

"Oh, yes...yes, she is."

"Why is she un-swayed?!" Sirius demanded, throwing his hands up in defeat.

James seemed to be prepared for this and he wiggled his fingers to draw his friends attention before he began ticking off the reasons in a very 'its-so-obvious' sort of tone.

"She's intelligent, witty, powerful, and certainly no femme fatale," he waved the reasons, as represented by his fingers, in the face of his friend. "All things very much not your type."

"So you're saying I just go after slutty, dumb girls?" Sirius growled, threateningly.

"Yep." James had no hesitation.

Sirius swung at him, but the Seeker dodged with Quidditch honed reflexes and his agility proved too much for the Beater to compete with. Sirius has to settle for glaring irately at him.

"We should be grateful that she's been so nice to us," James told him. "And she's given us this chance to do something good and worthwhile—"

Sirius wasn't listening. "I'm going to get her to like me," he swore resolutely.

James crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, "Don't you think you're trying a bit too hard?"

"Have a little faith in your best friend," Sirius said, easily waving off his friend's uncertainties.

"I think you're just pissing her off."

"Nah."

"SIRIUS! IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW, I'LL BLOODY WELL SEND YOU BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM!!" Hermione's screams echoed all the way up the stairwell into the dormitory.

James gave him a look that clearly said I told you so.

"COMING DARLING!" He shouted back, earning him a weary expression from his best mate.

"You're an idiot," James told him.

As they both headed down the stairs and into the common room where the others were impatiently waiting Sirius could be heard grumbling "Why didn't she yell at you...".

--

--

They were learning about phoenixes in DADA that morning, and after an enthusiastic demonstration by Fawkes, they were made to go through their books and write down the defining characteristics of the species, while Fawkes preened on his stand at the front of the class.

Hermione's table was working quietly, their quills moving back and forth in steady lines across their separate sheets of parchment.

She was thinking of how to phrase the next line when there was a shrill squawk right beside her ear and she flinched away from it, knocking shoulders with Remus. A tiny crane flitted around her head, parchment wings flapping, and folded corners catching on her frizzy curls.

Apologizing quietly to Remus, she looked automatically to Ron, but the tall redhead was hunched over his book two desks up. Having to lean forward quite a ways to look around Sirius, Hermione did so – her head nearly laying atop the table – and checked Harry. He was grinning at her, books and parchments already tucked away.

Sticking out her tongue she sat back in her chair and promptly swatted the paper crane away. She was still annoyed that he'd stuck her with Sirius and Remus.

She focused, determinedly on her work, and almost succeeded in getting some of it done, when the suicidal bird careened headlong into the side of her face and got tangled in her curls. Throwing her quill down in exasperation, she tried to get the squirming origami animal extracted from her hair, but it only twisted itself deeper.

Another set of hands pulled hers away, and worked swiftly to separate the crane from her hair. She waited for the witty commentary, but none came and Hermione looked up at Sirius in surprise. He was holding it out to her by one wing, the enchanted parchment frantically flapping its free limb to keep aloft.

"You might as well read it," he said, the tell tale smirk finally appearing on his face. "Wouldn't want you losing an eye, pigeon."

She kicked him under the table for calling her that annoying nickname and snatched the note right out of his hand. She mumbled something to the extent of "whatever" and gave both wings a rather vicious tug in opposite directions. Sirius laughed and leaned back over his book.

The square-ish parchment, once unfolded, proved to have no words on it whatsoever. Instead, Harry had tried his (poor) hand at drawing, and in bright green ink was a crude picture that repeated the same three-second span of action.

A stick figure that looked very much like Hermione was holding stick hands with another stick figure that looked very much like Remus. At stick-figure Hermione's feet there was a jumble of lines she couldn't make out, but the head with its long hair was most undoubtedly Sirius. His stick arms were holding her robes, or leg, or something – she couldn't quite tell. Every three seconds the background would fill with loopy, mismatched hearts, stick-Remus would blush, and a dog's tail and ears would sprout from stick-Sirius.

"What's that?" Remus asked.

Hermione jumped, snatching the note with one hand and roughly stuffing it into her satchel. "Nothing," she said hastily, knowing her cheeks were turning an unattractive shade of pink. She kicked her book bag under her chair.

She hesitated to meet Remus' eyes, but when she finally did, found she needn't have bothered. He was looking past her. She turned in her seat to follow his gaze – seeing Sirius turned as well – and her disbelieving eyes landed on Harry.

His face was turning purple he was laughing so hard.

Holding his sides as if they would burst, he looked to be doing everything to keep the laughter in, but a few snickers were slipping through – probably the only thing keeping him from passing out.

"_What are you doing?_" She hissed.

Harry couldn't contain himself. He only got out "Your face..." before dissolving into forced back snickers.

At this, both Sirius and Remus, as well as Lily and James – who'd been staring at the purple face Harry with something akin to horror – turned to look at Hermione, who swore her skin was about to melt right of her face. Cursing Harry's first born child under her breath, she hunched down as far over her book as she could go and let her hair fall over her shoulders, using her free hand to shield her flaming face as best she could.

The day had only just begun.

--

--

When Ancient Runes finally came around, Harry, Ron, and Hermione filed into the musty classroom and dropped their books onto a table off to the side of the room. Hermione dragged up a chair from one of the nearby tables because they only sat two. Fortunately, Professor Harrison cared just about as much as Knoll on what the students did or did not do in his class.

"How was working for Snape?" Harry asked Hermione.

She ignored him.

Ron, who had no idea what was going on, turned to Hermione. "Hermione?"

"You can't still be on about that?" Harry laughed. She gave him a pointed look that said quite plainly 'oh-yes-I-can'.

Harry rolled his eyes and kicked his feet up onto their table. Hermione, wand tucked in its place behind her ear, heaved her book-laden bag onto her lap and began flipping through the papers inside it.

"Hermione?" Ron said again.

She huffed as if he'd interrupted a very important riffling, and gave him an annoyed look before giving in and turning to them both with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Harry seems to be under the...very _false_ assumption that Sirius and Remus are interested in me," she quipped.

"Did either of them touch you?!" Ron demanded.

"WHAT?!" Hermione yelled. "No!"

Harry waved his hand at Ron in a Vanna White-esque gesture. He actually said "I told you so."

"Why?" She asked, bewildered. "Why would you both think that?"

"The looks at meals," Harry said.

"The pet name," Ron added.

"Studying together."

"Flirting."

"Passing notes."

They were more talking to themselves now, than Hermione herself.

"Did you know Sirius offered to help with the Aureus Prophecy?" Ron told Harry.

Hermione gaped. "You _heard_ that?!"

"Of course, I think he may have been looking down her shirt at the time..." Ron murmured with a frown.

"The whole school thinks there's a thing between Remus and her," Harry informed him.

"_Really_?" he murmured in interest.

"Stop it, both of you!" Hermione demanded slapping her palms down on the desk.

Ron 'pish-posh'ed. "Don't worry; it's cute."

Harry's face was a pull on apologetic. "It _is_ kinda cute."

"And just a little funny," Ron's face cracked a smile, though he tried to stop it.

Harry held up his thumb and index finger and squinted through the tiny gap he made of them. "Just an itsy bit."

"It's _weird_," she said in a clarifying tone.

Their mocking didn't slack off at all as they exchanged looks as if to say 'nah'. "It's not weird," Ron said.

"Not even a little weird," Harry insisted.

That echoing thing was getting _annoying_.

"He's your godfather for Merlin's sake!" Hermione exclaimed. She threw her hands up in the air. "And Remus was our Professor."

"That just shows how responsible they are," Harry pointed out.

"They were thirty some years old in our time," Hermione continued.

"Plenty of time to gain knowledge and life experiences," Ron interjected.

"They're like a fine wine," Harry added, nodded sagely. "Improving with age."

"In case you hadn't remembered," Hermione gritted out through her teeth. "They're also both dead in our time."

"But they aren't any more," Ron piped, before switching to a tone that sounded very much like Hermione's pappy. "They're now strapping, young men."

Harry was nodding his head like some sort of bobble-head doll. "Resilient."

Hermione uncrossed her arms with a sigh and laid them out on the table, her nails clacking unconsciously atop the wooden top. "There are rules about forming relationships with Time Travelers," Hermione lectured. "Our friendship with them may already be jeopardizing the timeline."

"And how do we know this isn't what we're supposed to do?" Ron countered, for once making a decent point. "What if, by _not_ forming any relations with them at all, the timeline is ruined?"

"And this is all assuming that we're able to send them back at all," Harry brought up. "They might be stuck in this time forever."

"But if there is a way..." Hermione trailed off.

"They might not want to go back," Ron finished.

"Dumbledore trusts your judgment about this, and so, by default, mine too," Harry started. Hermione rolled her eyes. "So, here's my advice: don't worry about it."

This made Hermione smile, though probably not in the way Harry had intended. "Has any ever told you you're right awful at giving advice?"

"Yeah, yeah – go right ahead and laugh it up, I'm being serious."

"That name's already taken," Ron interrupted, cheekily.

"We're not making fun anymore," Harry sighed.

Ron grinned. "Oops."

"You want me to just go against all the rules and do whatever I feel like," Hermione repeated.

Harry was overjoyed to hear her finally coming around; "Yes!"

"You know, I haven't even said anything about liking them," she commented casually.

Ron sighed loudly. "Geez, Hermione – you're no fun."

"It's not my job to be fun," she teased.

"No!" Harry readily agreed, which made Hermione wary. "You're job is to attract the guys."

"They're not going to like me once training starts," she told them firmly, looking up as students began to reluctantly enter the room as the bell ringing neared. There weren't that many seventh years taking the class and the ones that entered took tables on the other side of the room. Slytherins.

"Yeah..." Ron sighed. Hermione scowled – he wasn't supposed to agree with her! "You can be a bitch..."

"Thanks," she grumbled, going back to her earlier, pointless riffling.

"Well you are pretty intense," Harry said slowly; afraid she might punch him again.

"I'm surprised you two don't hate me yet," she murmured morosely.

Ron clapped her heartily on the back and she lurched forward, knocking papers all over the floor. "Don't worry. We never liked you in the first place!" He teased.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed in surprised laughter.

Hermione punched him.

"OW!"

Ron cradled his injured arm to his chest. "That _really_ hurt."

"I told you!" Harry reminded him resoundingly. To Hermione he said; "You really gotta stop going around punching people."

"It's not nice!" Ron insisted.

Harry nodded. "Because it's _not nice_."

The bell rang following his words and Hermione began picking up the papers Ron's sudden thumping had made her litter the floor with. "How I got stuck with you pair of fools is beyond me," she reflected snidely.

"Would you rather be stuck with two other blokes?" Ron waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, the voice of their professor as he began the lesson buzzing in the background. "Drop it," she warned.

They wouldn't mention it again until after dinner, when Hermione returned from the library with a large stack of books on Time Travelers and set up shop on the window seat perpendicular to the wall that housed the fireplace.

That's how they found her when the returned from the Great Hall – nose in a book.

--

--

"Hermione!" Lily called across the half-filled common room; students just returning from dinner. "We didn't see you at dinner."

"Yeah, some of us actually missed you."

Hermione looked up long enough to frown disapprovingly at Harry then buried her head back in the current book. She had curled up in the plush window seat, with its cushioned bench and throw pillows and the afghan she'd pulled from the back of one of the couches. The stack of books she'd requisitioned from the library was piled beside the wall beneath her, and a few of the more helpful ones were tucked between her feet and wedged between pillows.

Unable to function past reading in the tight space, Hermione had enchanted her parchment and quill to work independently. If she found something she deemed might be helpful she read the passage aloud and the quill would whiz across the parchment, copying the words in Hermione's distinct, miniscule cursive.

While she waited for her quill to finish the last words she'd spoken before students had begun returning from dinner, she looked up to talk to Harry and was startled to find him crouching right beside her, face even with her shoulder.

"I told you – don't do that creepy, silent sneakin' thing!" She ordered voice a bit breathless from the shock. "We didn't go to those Auror classes for you to scare the daylights out of your friends."

"Yeah, mate," Ron called. He looked like he was setting up for a game of Wizard's Chess. "Use your powers for good, not evil."

"Did you need something?" Harry pressed, ignoring Ron's comment and Hermione's faint chuckles.

"I borrowed your ink," She informed him, tweaking the feathers of her quill. Her parchment was half-filled with green writing and there was a roll of filled ones piled beside her. All, presumably, written in Harry's green ink.

"Does she just go into the dorms whenever she wants?" James asked in incredulity.

"Pretty much," Ron said through a mouthful of the dinner roll he'd snitched from the tables.

"Ya hear that, Padfoot?" James shouted over the back of the couch. "Keep your knickers in your trunk!"

The boys all laughed heartily amidst the girls' dulcet giggling.

All too quickly, the noise died down and they all broke off to their separate tasks. A great deal of first and second years were milling about – prepubescent voices chattering at an almost unbearably high pitch – while the upperclassman had a majority of their population absent from the common room; still wandering the castle while they were able. Or perhaps it was just to get away from the first years.

Hermione continued her research, homework long finished. Comparatively, she was utterly silent, save for the subtle rustling of the books' dry pages as they turned, and the moments where she found a few lines worth recording.

"_Time Travelers are often sent purposely through time to complete a predetermined mission. Only once they discover their mission and complete it successfully are they able to return to their original time."_

Hermione gave her wearied quill time to complete its stenography and scanned several of the prior occurrences along the bottom of the pages; witches and wizards who had gone backwards and forwards along the timeline with tasks as seemingly trivial as making a friend or helping an old woman across the street, to extreme missions, such as keeping a magical species from going totally extinct or saving a life.

Remus was curled up beneath the window, his back to the wall, and wrapped in the comforter from his bed. His Arithmancy book lay open in his lap and he was diligently working on their assignment, keeping her silent company. Every time she read aloud, the dry scratching of his quill would stop and she felt as if he were listening.

Curious, she finally questioned him on it, but his only reply was "I like hearing your voice" and she was far too pink in the face to form another intelligent sounding inquiry,

After that incident, they both lapsed back into the silence of their work, Hermione only pausing when, after an hour, she noticed that Remus had long since finished his homework. He was leaning back against the wall, arms supported loosely by his knees, and the comforter bunched around his waist. His eyes were closed and it was quite possible that he'd fallen asleep.

"_In order to Time Travel one must possess strength of will and a soundness of mind; both of which are essential to time adaptation."_

"So when's James gonna crack?" Sirius joked. Apparently, Remus hadn't been the only one listening in.

James went for his wand, but only succeeded in knocking over the tower of Exploding Snap cards he'd been building with Lily. The entire pile exploded with a loud **bang!** and James was buried in soot.

"You just demolished Godric's Hollow!" Lily complained, jutting her fists on her hips.

James wiped the black charcoal from his eyes so he could see. "Godric's Hollow?"

Lily nodded. "That's what our future home will be called."

He and Sirius both burst into laughter, which only made Lily's frown deepen. "I just _feel_ it, alright?"

Sirius made a face and she promptly swatted him with a pillow, instigating a miniature couch war. Hermione met Harry's eyes across the room. He smiled at her, but she wasn't so sure they should be happy that the Marauder's were gaining some of the memories of their future lives.

"_Hermiiiiiione_."

She craned her head at an odd angle and found Ron laying despairingly on the oriental throw rug that sat in front of the fireplace – she was surprised to still see him there.

"I'm hungry," he whined, scratching his stomach. He'd discarded his robes and tie earlier, and might as well have gotten rid of the shirt as well for all it was covering – sleeves rolled up to his elbow, top three buttons undone, and the tails tucked out of his trousers.

"We just ate dinner," she reminded him, holding up Harry's slightly depleted inkwell for her quill to re-wet itself.

There was a groan from the floor, as if the mere mention of dinner was making his stomach rumble. "So you're not gonna go?"

"Life's full of little disappointments," she told him apathetically and went back to work.

It was getting close to midnight and the common room was slowly losing its occupants. Hermione looked around and counted nine other students besides their own seven. She started to turn the page of her book, when a line caught her eye and she backtracked.

Clearing her throat, she began to read aloud.

"_Time Travelers that journey to the past, when they return to their present and original time, remember all those they meet in the past as well as every experience. The person or person who had knowledge of the Time Traveler retain their memories as well until such time as they are reunited with the Traveler, or, in the cases of great time differential, until death."_

There was complete silence in the common room as Hermione read from the ancient book, every task gone mute so that her voice could be heard. It was a low, murmuring alto, that when she spoke softly enough it had a humming, vibratious quality to it – like the tingling wave of heat that came with drinking hot cocoa on a winter day.

"_Witches and wizards who travel to the future are surrounded by much different circumstances. When such Time Travelers return to the past, they—"_

Hermione stopped talking.

Remus' eyes opened at the sudden stop and he, like the others, turned to look at Hermione. Her brow was furrowed as if in deep thought and the book was frozen in her hands. If one looked at her eyes they found them to be darting back and forth along the same boundaries, reading one line again and again. The enchanted quill hovered uncertainly over the parchment.

Then she closed the book.

Unwinding herself from the position she'd long occupied on the boxy window seat, she seat the book beside her and when she saw Remus' gaze drifting to it, she tapped it with her wand and with a loud **zap!** the books and parchment disappeared.

"I think I will make a quick run down to the kitchens." She smiled tightly and hopped down onto the floor beside Remus.

"Really?" Ron sounded surprised. Hermione nodded and moved quickly for the door, ducking her head so that her bushy curls fell over her face.

Ron sat right up and began rattling off things he wanted, but Hermione disappeared out the door before he'd even finished, and his long tirade was cut off by the slamming of the portrait door.

They waited until half past one, when Lily was no longer able to stay awake (no matter how many times James exploded their future home), but Hermione never returned.

--

There was one week 'til training.


	7. VI Training

A/N: It's really touch and go here in the polls. Sirius has fallen behind with 11 votes, and Remus now leads with 12. 3 of you vote threesome (perhaps .). Keep 'em coming.

A/N2: Oh my god, this story has a plot? (It's like the tin man getting a heart!) You all had a lot of very good questions, and rest assured that they will all be answered in time because...I'm cool like that.

A/N3: If you didn't see, is going to be down from Sunday to Tuesday, so I'm going to try and get at least one more long post in tomorrow to hopefully tide you all over. Much love to all those who read, and those who read & review.

--

--

Training Day

--

"Are you quite finished yet, Granger?!"

Hermione sighed. "Almost, Professor. This last essay was without a name."

"That's no excuse," and Snape came striding into the room, his robes as always finding some way to billow ominously behind him. "I specifically demanded these be completed by a quarter past five."

Hermione nodded patiently, and kept her divided attention focused more on checking the Potion's assignment in front of her then listen to the ramblings of a teacher who despised her. "Yes, Professor. I shall finish the final parchment within the last five allotted minutes of my time."

Snape placed his palms atop the table and leaned threateningly over it and into her face. "I would not take such a tone if I were you," he hissed, beady black eyes narrowing.

Hermione nodded, eyes moving across the wide loopy writing of the parchment beneath her hands. "Yes, Professor."

"I took you on as a favor to the headmaster—"

"Yes, Professor."

"—But don't think I won't hesitate to dismiss you, simply because you're Dumbledore's pet student."

"Yes, Professor."

He scowled at her, trying to determine if she was being sarcastic or not, but Hermione remained diligently focused on correcting the half-rolled parchment. And he couldn't take points from her for doing what he'd asked.

"Get to work," he growled and stormed back out of the Potion's classroom, only faltering in his step as she called "yes, Professor" after him. He frowned back at her, but unable to find anything at fault to deem a deduction of house points, he stalked out into the hallway – frustration clear as the door slammed violently behind him.

Hermione made the final scribbled note at the bottom of the essay on Sleeping Draughts and rolled it back up, placing it beside the other second year rolls piled on Snape's desk. Quill, once finally cleaned, was tucked back into her satchel along with her inkwell, and she was in the process of clasping the bag shut when the door opened again.

Her inquiry of "yes, Professor?" died before it was given breath when she saw who was standing in the doorway.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, beaming brightly. Remembering suddenly where she was, she frowned. "You shouldn't be here," she whispered.

"I've come to steal you away," He said gallantly, but he too was talking in a whisper. No point in waking the beast. "It's dinner time."

Hermione sighed gratefully. Pulling her robe off the back of the chair, she then draped it over her satchel as she lifted it onto her shoulder. Indicating that Harry should wait for her, she hurried over to the door of Snape's office and knocked briskly.

"What?!" Snapped an irate voice from inside.

"I'm leaving for dinner now, Professor," Hermione replied, as politely as she could. "The checked essays are on your desk, and I also set out the materials for your next class."

"Then why are you still here?!" He demanded. "Get out."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at the door, then hoped her professor hadn't set up any security wards that might have caught her rude gesture on film. "Come on, Harry," she whispered and the two of them quickly hurried out into the dungeon hall.

"How was Quidditch practice?" Hermione asked conversationally, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make it, but Snape scheduled me to check papers."

Harry shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"So...how's the team looking this year?" Hermione asked slowly, not really wanting to get dragged into a conversation over _Quidditch_ of all things. Harry tended to get a bit overzealous.

"Sirius is a Beater and my dad's a Chaser."

"Ya learn something new every day," she commented wryly, bumping shoulders with him good-naturedly.

Harry chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "The rest of the team was wondering why they were sitting in the bleachers watching."

Hermione winced, "In a few weeks, once we've figured out all the changes, these sorts of things won't happen," she said reassuringly. Harry nodded. "What did you tell them?"

Harry waved one of his hands. "Something about the flu or a broken wrist or whatever. They'll be suiting up tomorrow."

"How exciting," she replied without enthusiasm.

"They couldn't stop talking about training," he informed her.

"Really..."

"They sounded really excited..." His sing-song tone made Hermione smile.

"Just wait 'til I get through with them," was her confidant reply.

Harry's laughter echoed loudly down the empty hall. "So you're not going to tell them anything?"

"No. I won't give them any more of an advantage than we had when we first started."

Harry groaned and Hermione assumed he was remembering, none too fondly, his first training experience. "You couldn't eat for two days," she giggled thinking of how humorous the situation seemed now. Harry looked sick. "I think that's something our dear friends should experience for themselves, don't you?"

Harry added his malicious grin to Hermione's sweet smile. "It would be a shame to deprive theme of such a memorable moment," he said with a falsely logical tone.

Hermione pushed the Great Hall doors open for the both of them and they entered, laughing quietly at the joke between them. As they neared the benches where their friends were dining, a sly grin found its way onto Harry's face.

"Wanna make a bet?"

Hermione shrugged, "What kind of bet?"

He nodded his head in the direction of Gryffindor table. "Five galleons says Sirius loses his dinner before training is over tonight."

Hermione's eyes traveled down the line of heads 'til she found Lily's bright burst of red hair and beside her, the long hair of Sirius Black. His plate was piled high with food and it looked as if it had already held one such pile. He was gesturing wildly with his goblet – most likely reenacting something that had happened at Quidditch practice – to James, who looked equally gluttonous, grabbing for the dessert plate while dodging the spray of Sirius' pumpkin juice.

She made a face at the display, but knew that someone as egotistical as Sirius Black would never allow anything that would cause him to lose faith.

"I'll take that bet," she said confidently and they shook on it before taking the open seats left around their friends.

"This should be fun."

Hermione flipped her hair over her shoulder and settled in next to Lily. "Oh, don't think you and Ron are getting off easy tonight just because I've got to whip the newbies into shape."

James and Sirius both made noises of indignation, though their exact words were indecipherable through the vast amounts of food.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry grinned.

"How was Potions?" Remus asked solicitously, cutting his steak into nice, even pieces. It was a nice contrast to the voracious eating habits of his friends.

"Awful! I don't think he has a nice bone in his body," she gripped, fiddling with the roll on her plate.

"He's not _that_ bad," Lily tried.

"He's a serpent," Sirius interjected.

"A greasy git," said Ron.

"There's a reason we called him Snivellus." That was James.

"He favors Slytherins," said Harry. This made Hermione glance quickly to the Slytherin table, where she caught sight of the familiar (unfortunately) faces of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and a few others.

Remus sounded almost apologetic when he said "He's just not nice, Hermione."

"Did you ever think it's because you tormented him so?!" Lily insisted, throwing her napkin down onto the table.

Hermione looked at her in surprise, Harry and Ron turned to the Marauders, and they looked to one another before answering with a simultaneous "nah!".

Lily spent the last of dinner stabbing despondently at her salad, and though James tried several times to engage her in conversation, he eventually gave up. Hermione, however, never took her eyes off the other girl. Brushing the crumbs of the dinner roll she'd successfully gutted off on her napkin, she cleared her throat slightly and scooted closer to Lily on the bench so she could talk out of range of the boys.

"Do you think he's worth the effort?" She whispered lowly.

Lily's eerily bright green eyes widened, and she lowered her fork. "Excuse me?"

"Snape," Hermione repeated. "Do you think he's worth the effort?"

Silently, almost imperceptibly, Lily nodded – still wide-eyed.

Hermione smiled faintly. "Okay."

"Okay?" Lily whispered.

Hermione's grin widened and she patted Lily on the shoulder. "Okay," she said again, and stood, leaving Lily wondering what had just happened.

Harry took his cue and stood up as well, "Let's go."

"It's time?" Remus asked.

Hermione nodded, "Let's go – I want to get the air routines in before it gets dark."

"Air routines?" James pipped up. He looked like a kid on Christmas. "Like with brooms?"

"No, vacuum cleaners," Sirius joked, thumping his friend on the back as he stood. "You're an idiot, Prongs."

"Well, let's go!" James exclaimed and took off down the Great Hall, Sirius chuckling and strolling after.

Hermione and Remus followed next with Harry and Ron bringing up the rear. Lily was the last, her gaze caught on the Gryffindor table. Three plates were sparklingly clean. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't eaten.

--

--

"Everybody up," Hermione commanded, and six brooms rose into the air.

The training grounds had been scouted out by Ron on the first day of term, and the flat stretch of grass, nearly the size of a Quidditch pitch, was ringed on three sides by the Forbidden Forest and the other was bordered by the lake; it was completely out of sight.

"Aren't you coming up?" Sirius called down, doing a few showy flips in the air.

"I don't fly," she told him curtly.

"Impossible – all pigeons can fly," he laughed at his own joke and whizzed around Lily, who was content to sit quite peacefully on her own broom.

Harry and Ron made a few loops to get comfortable, but where they stopped James and Remus began chasing each other around, while Sirius tried to provoke Lily to chase him.

Hermione pushed back her sleeves and stepped up, wand in hand. "Harry, Ron – show them Alpha."

Harry nodded and took off first, swerving side to side then executing a simple double loop, then Ron joined him and they weaved in and out of one another repeating the maneuver twice more before hovering to a stop beside the others, who promptly flew off to try it themselves.

"We'll start at level five," she instructed, and blue light began to emit from the end of her wand. Tracing a square in the air, her wand left a shimmering trail behind it. With her other hand she pushed the blue square of magic towards them and it stretched to accommodate a wide area of the grounds, blue lights sinking into the grass.

"_Pentagravitus!_"

The grass bled blue and Lily screamed.

Sirius grunted and tried to move forward, but it was all he could do to sit upright under the intense force pressing down on him. Remus was shaking, struggling to pull himself up off his broom handle, and Lily was pressed flat against her broom, crying out in pain as the wooden shaft dug painfully into her cheek. She tried to pull away and ease the pain, but she wasn't strong enough to fight the power pulling her down. James, had been unlucky enough to be mid-loop when the spell had hit and his back bowed threatening to yank him off his broomstick. He'd gotten his ankles crossed and his hands locked around the handle, but he was barely managing to keep from falling much less swing himself back up.

Hermione stepped up to the edge of the glowing square, and her face was completely blank. It was terrifyingly emotionless.

"What you are feeling," she said in monotone. "Is five times Earth's natural gravity."

To the Marauder's disbelief, Harry and Ron came whizzing by, serpentining in the distinct Alpha pattern. The spell looked as though it had no effect on them.

"Now fly."

James lost a hand and he hung precariously thirty feet above the ground, with five times stronger gravity pulling him down. Lily cried out in concern, but she could only blink her eyes in response. Harry swooped down beside her, worry masking his features. He looked to Hermione but she only looked blankly back. Swallowing his indecision, Harry nodded shortly and flew back off again without helping her.

"Brooms are magical objects, and as such they are above worldly forces. They will move if you are strong enough to guide them." Hermione's instructions were delivered in short, even tones without inflection. "So _fly_."

Remus' stomach churned as the pressure wore down on him and he was only seconds away from finding out Lily's pain. He heard Sirius groan above him, and rolled his eyes upwards to see his friend sagging gradually forward. Unlike Remus, the pressure on Sirius' stomach proved to be too much for him, and with a strangled gag he vomited over the side of his broom. That would teach them to eat before training.

She owed Harry five galleons.

"Her...mi...ne..." Remus couldn't breathe.

Hermione stood stationary on the ground. She watched them struggle to hold on, struggle just to keep their bodies upright. She watched her hope slip away.

_This is never going to work..._

Calling her broom into her hand, she swung her leg over and kicked off, shooting up and into the magic grid. Her body slowed as it pushed into the square, like something was holding it back and then she was rushing up into the clump of groaning Marauders.

"You...said 't...fly," Sirius grunted.

Hermione regarded him coldly. "That was your first mistake – Harry, what were the others."

Harry stopped his drills and promptly answered with militant efficiency. "You didn't check your brooms for charms or hexes, you got in the air without checking the area, you never asked what training implied, you ignored an armed witch with her wand drawn, you allowed her spell to catch you unawares—"

"That's enough," Hermione interrupted, holding up a hand. Harry instantly fell silent. "You and Ron will go through our usual order on your own, level nine," she instructed. "I'll take them through on level two."

"Not...a...mistake," Sirius panted. "We..._trusted_...you."

She turned empty eyes to him.

"What have I ever done to make you trust me?"

She waited for Harry and Ron to leave for their own, new, gravity-grid and then pulled her wand from her sleeve. "_Duogravitas!_"

The force instantly lessened and the Marauders heaved in great gasping breaths of air, arms shaking as they pushed themselves back up. James swung himself back into a sitting position on his broom and Lily forced hers slowly up to meet him, struggling against the double gravity every inch of the way.

"Look," Hermione pointed to Ron and Harry who were speeding through a blue grid at nine times the usual force of gravity. "They are on level nine. You," she paused for emphasis. "have trouble moving on level two."

"I'm sorry we've never been in extreme gravity before," James retorted angrily. Lily was fussing over his arms.

Hermione's head whipped around so fast it gave him whiplash. "They are also _silent_." She pocketed her wand once more and guided her broom up above. "Time is racing towards us, and soon the war will have begun. Listen to my every order...and you _might_ survive."

They all wore such similar looks of disbelief that Hermione flew her broom back down among them, if only so that she didn't have to see them anymore. "Welcome to training," she said flatly. "You will show up every day and do what is ordered of you – or I send you back."

She finished her loop, ending back in front of them. "Alpha...now."

For the moment, the Marauders seemed too shocked to argue and they moved to spread out, beginning the routine from the start. Hermione demonstrated each of the maneuvers in turn, but it wouldn't be for two more hours that she was satisfied enough to let them finish.

She closed their gravity-grid and four bone-weary Marauders landed on the ground, sweat-soaked socks squelching in their shoes as they stepped back onto the grass. It was fully dark out, but the phosphorescent blue of the grass gave enough glow for them to see by. Harry and Ron were still going.

"_Decemgravitas!_" The light flickered a moment and Harry and Ron froze as if stuck in flypaper before moving off, albeit a bit slower than before.

"Theta!"

The Marauders watched in amaze as the complicated pattern they'd hardly gotten through was performed with flawless ease by the two boys. They zig-zagged, swooped, dived, looped, twisted, and lunged with seamless transitions and a grace that had been far absent from the Marauder's gravity-grid.

"_Undecimgravitas!_" Hermione raised the level to eleven.

Their movements were greatly slower this time and Hermione's eyes could pick up the shuddering of the broom's tail as Ron completed a twist, and the flexing of Harry's arm muscles as he fought to steer his broomstick out of the dive.

"_Duodecimgravitas!_"

The field had been raised to twelve times earth's normal gravity and the two wizards were still pushing through it trying to complete Theta one last time. Ron managed to get his down in two tries, but Harry couldn't seem to finish his. Every time he came out of the double-loop half twist his broom would lurch to a stop and his face would turn red with the effort to get it moving again.

Ron, forced to wait inside the grid until they both finished, hovered high in the air, silently cheering his best friend on. Harry failed another run.

He was sweating profusely and his glasses were all but useless. Knuckles white with the effort of controlling the broomstick, his fingers were near bruising under the force with which he gripped the shaft.

He failed again and again, but Hermione said nothing and the grid remained up. And each time, Harry's strength waned.

Finally, Sirius spoke up. "He was working all practice – let him rest!"

Hermione's eyes were following Harry. "No."

"Hermione!" Sirius was near shouting. "He can't do it!"

She looked at him sharply and the sheer blankness of her expression made him take an unconscious step back. "I am in charge here, _not you_. And the next time you feel like challenging my orders you had better be prepared to take his place."

Lily rushed forward and grabbed Sirius arms. She vainly tried to pull him back, but he was rooted to the spot and gaping at Hermione like she'd grown a second head. "Sirius, don't! That's twelve times the Earth's gravity – you'll be crushed," she pleaded.

"Harry can do this—"Hermione said resolutely, turning back to the grid. "And he'll keep going until he does."

"This is crazy!" James shouted, and Lily was struggling to hold them both back. "You're taking this too far, Hermione!"

Hermione lifted her wand close to her face and fingered it fondly. No one had seen her draw it. "Just say the word and you're gone, James," she murmured without looking at him.

"Everyone, please!" Lily was beside herself, but they were all beyond listening.

"I never asked you to come. You volunteered," Hermione reminded him. James might have said something then that he regretted if not for Lily's desperate hushing.

Remus shook his head. "He's your best friend..." He wasn't judging – he just didn't understand.

She watched Harry like a hawk, honey eyes following every motion. When he lay panting against his broom after another disastrous attempt he caught Hermione's gaze, and looked beyond to the angry Marauders behind her. Determination swelled inside him and he set his jaw, turning his broom back around.

He raced forward as fast as he was able and just before he hit the far side he swooped upwards into the Theta routine, riding the velocity of his dash all the way through the double-loop half twist and into the final zig-zag, ending in a downward spiral.

"_Singravitas!_" The blue light faded and both Harry and Ron gratefully lowered to the ground.

Without the light from the spell the seven students were plunged into darkness, only the faintest outlines visible by the light of the moon. Hermione stared at Harry's rough shape in the shadows and let out a long, soft breath.

"We're done for tonight. The gravity-grid took longer than I thought and there's not enough light left to scout the woods."

Harry and Ron both made noises of their understanding and agreement, before Hermione turned and walked back to the castle – a faint, torch lit glow in the distance – leaving the rest in darkness.

--

--

The minute Hermione stepped into the common room, a laden tray of food appeared on the fireside coffee table and she eagerly sat down and began to eat. Ron and Harry soon joined her and they ate ravenously, exhaustion and lack of dinner feeding their hunger.

Either the sight of food made the Marauders sick, or they didn't want to be with Hermione, because they disappeared immediately into their respective dormitories. Hermione's shoulders sagged to watch them go.

"You did what you needed to do, Hermione," Harry told her through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, concern leaking into her voice. Very slowly, the mask she'd built around herself was crumbling away.

He grinned cockily and grabbed the casserole from Ron. "Hungry."

Hermione smiled back, relieved, and hugged him.

"Don't worry about what they think, 'Mione," Ron told her over a basket of baguettes.

She frowned at him, pulling away from Harry and going back to her late dinner. "I don't," she insisted, biting into a red delicious apple.

"Not even Sirius and Remus?"

She didn't answer, concentrating instead on quenching her appetite.

Harry held off his shoveling of food and it was his turn to look at Hermione with concern. "Are you gonna be okay?"

She nodded, fork stabbing into her salad. "Just give me a night, as always, and I'll be fine."

Harry nodded, and the trio finished their binge in silence before retiring to their beds with sleepy yawns and content, well-fed stomachs.

--

--

**The Next Morning**

--

--

"Rise and shine, Lily. You told Seamus you'd meet him this morning to check his Charms homework."

Lily sat bolt upright in bed and watched with open mouth as Hermione bustled lively about the room, pulling the front part of her hair back in a barrette and flinging open the shutters to let the sunshine in.

Before the groggy redhead could register what was going on, Hermione had breezed right out the door.

--

Remus opened the door, and blinked his eyes against the sudden onset of light. When his vision cleared he was dumbstruck to see a smiling Hermione standing on the landing.

"Good morning, Remus," she said brightly. The corners of her eyes crinkling in that way she had of smiling just so. "I hope you slept well."

"I-I..."

His mouth opened and shut like a fish as she stepped inside and went to wake up Harry, who it turns out was already awake. He leapt out of bed at her, earning a surprised scream, as they both tumbled to the floor, laughing hysterically.

He grabbed her around the waist as she tried to run and swung her around and back into his arms. Ron was up by this point and shaking his head at their childish display, looking very much like his mother. Hermione ducked out of Harry's arms and clambering over James' bed – a loud groan signifying that she'd woken him – was chased by Harry over to Sirius' bed where she hid behind one of the twisted bedposts.

"What the—"

Hermione looked back over her shoulder, brown hair tumbling down her back, and smiled at the shocked Sirius. "Good morning, Sirius," she greeted sweetly, making his eyes go wider if possible.

Playfully swatting Harry away, she pushed them all to get dressed. "Time for class," she cajoled, and was banished by Ron to his bed, where she sat down Indian-style and waited for them to finish getting ready before remembering she'd forgotten her quill in the common room and rushed off to get it.

"Now, don't go back to bed—"she warned, with a wide smile that made a rather empty threat. "And hurry or you'll miss breakfast."

Sirius, James, and Remus all exchanged looks and stared after the brunette, as she took the dorm stairs down two at a time, in complete confusion and unable to speak.


	8. VII Neglect

Sirius: 12

Remus: 13

Threesome: 4

A/N: Sorry about the long time in updating and the rather shortness of the chapter, but I've been distracted by the movie and such. And! Just for the record I had to do the last half of the chapter in my new acrylic nails – yeah, typing's a bitch. You're lucky I love you guys...

BIG FYI: We're finally getting some action next chapter, so strap your booties on and brace for impact! The chappy should be up tomorrow afternoon (? hopefully). For all y'alls trying to escape your relatives, lol. Enjoy

--

--

"HERMIONE!"

A petite, red whirlwind attacked the brunette, nearly bowling her over. With the younger girl dancing around her, Hermione barely managed to set her books down at the lunch table before she grabbed the girl to make her stop moving.

"What the devil's wrong with you, Ginny?" Hermione demanded of the youngest Weasley, rubbing her side where she'd been collided into.

"I've been so busy this first week, I haven't seen you at all!" The younger girl exclaimed, orange ponytail bobbing behind her. Going up on her tiptoes she waved to the other six with a toothy grin. "Hey, guys."

Before Hermione could protest, Ginny had pulled her down onto the bench beside her. "Do you know what this weekend is?" She chattered excitedly, reaching for crisps.

"Three days from now?" Hermione replied blandly.

"It's a Hogsmeade trip!"

Hermione glanced to Harry who confirmed this news with a nod. Hermione's interest piqued. "Really?"

Ginny nodded into her milk. "I'm going straight to the Quidditch shop – there's a new set of leather gloves I've been saving for."

"Really?" James exclaimed.

She nodded emphatically while trying to spread jam on her toast. "'Specially made for Chasers. You should take a look at 'em," she suggested.

"A girl after my own heart," Sirius charmed, and Hermione rolled her eyes. She wondered how many times that line actually worked.

"Do you lead with your left or your right?" James was asking, leaning against the table, kitty corner to Hermione.

"Oh, left definitely," Ginny replied.

"Me too!"

Hermione sighed, defeated once more by the topic of Quidditch. At least they were all sitting together which was more than she'd planned on after last night.

"I'd ask you to come with..." Ginny turned to her. "But Remus is taking you, right?"

Hermione choked on her toast.

Their whole section burst into laughter, but when they realized that Remus and Hermione weren't joining in, the humor died. Hermione's cheeks were pink and Remus was looking down at his lap. The glanced furtively at one another and then away.

"I always said the two of you were perfect for one another," Ginny rambled on, completely oblivious. Hermione clapped a hand over the red-head's big mouth and the younger girl dropped her fork in surprise.

"We're _not_ together, Gin," she hissed, and Ginny's frosty blue eyes widened. Very cautiously, Hermione lowered her hand.

"Really?" she exclaimed.

"Really really."

"But what about all the love lett-" Hermione slammed her hand back down over her mouth.

Harry was laughing hysterically.

"Sis," Ron said slowly. "_Shut. Up._"

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, but only succeeded in getting Hermione's hand wet. She groaned and wiped her hand off on her robes, shooting Ginny a disgusted look. Remus was determinedly staring at her in that patient way he had. It was unnerving. Sirius was burning a hole in the opposite wall with his glare.

Ginny reached for her fork, but Hermione grabbed her firmly by the wrist. "Oh, no," she said. "We're going to have a little talk."

Dragging the redhead off the bench, she scooped her books up in her other hand. "See you guys at the grounds," she said quickly and took off, pulling the reluctant Ginny behind her, who managed to snitch a cupcake from the table before she was yanked down the hallway.

--

--

"Where's little red?"

Hermione looked up in surprise to see Sirius lounged out on one of the large rocks by the lakeside. Harry was perched behind him, his robes opened and his back to the forest.

The others were spread out around them, sitting in the grass or skipping stones across the lake. She was more than surprised that the Marauders had showed up – she was floored.

"Back in the common room," she managed.

"She's not training?"

Hermione shook her head. "No."

"Shame. It would have been nice to add another female to the group."

She snorted, "I'm sure she wouldn't mind a private lesson from you."

"That's my sister!" Ron shouted indignantly.

Clearing her throat pointedly, Hermione stripped off her robes and threw them off to the side, and the look on her face told them all that it was time for business. To their surprise, however, she dropped her wand beside it after a few murmured incantations.

"Hand-to-hand combat," she said clearly, tying her hair back with an elastic band. "You lose your wand you'll have to survive long enough to get it back."

Taking a few steps back, she gestured to Harry. "Harry – you and I will demonstrate."

He nodded and discarded his robes and wand on Sirius' rock, then rolled up his sleeves. The Marauders perked up and waited anxiously for the pair to begin.

The atmosphere was calm and relaxed until Harry got within three feet of Hermione and she unexpectedly lashed out. What followed next was a high-paced flurry of blows that one only saw choreographed in movies. Expect these hits were landing.

Harry dodged her first punch and high kick and retaliated with a left hook that Hermione had to duck to avoid. Taking advantage of her poor position Harry brought his knee up into her jaw with enough force to rock her back. She caught herself with her hands and kicked upwards using her momentum as she pushed off the grass to get back to her feet. He caught her ankle and tried to twist it, but she spun out of his grasp, pulling him off balance and cracking him across the cheek with her elbow as she finished her pivot.

Stumbling slightly as the lights danced across his vision Harry aimed a blind punch at her head. She blocked it with her forearm and he swung his other fist. She blocked that too. Grabbing the wrists of the fists she was holding off, Hermione's nails bit through the skin, and she whipped her head forward, slamming her forehead into the bridge of his nose. There was a disgustingly audible crack as bones broke.

She started to jump back, but now Harry had grabbed _her_ wrists. Dizzy, disoriented, and blood dripping from his nose, Harry yanked her towards him and they both went down. Hermione's ribs fractured as her falling form was met by Harry's feet to her stomach.

He kicked upwards and Hermione went flying over his head and bounced across the ground to the Marauder's feet. Both injured, it took them each several seconds to get up.

Harry got up first and charged at her, tackling her before she was half up. Hermione went down fighting, clawing at his arms with her nails and drawing blood. They rolled over and over, trying to catch one another's throats and landing several blows along the face and shoulders.

He tried to kick her over him again, but this time she grabbed his arms as she went through the air. Her back hit the ground in a roll and Harry was thrown through the air. She scrambled back to her feet, vaulted the rock Sirius' was sitting on, and hit the ground running. Harry swept her legs out from under her and the wind was knocked out of her when she collided with the ground. Harry was instantly on top of her, straddling her abdomen and pressing his forearm against her adam's apple.

She kicked and bucked and clawed, but Harry would not be dislodged, and she couldn't breathe. Limbs flailing and darkness creeping into the edges of her vision, she could hear someone shouting.

"Get off her! You don't have to kill her, you've already won!"

It took Hermione's oxygen deprived brain an extra second to match the voice to a face. She was surprised to recognize Remus' voice.

She blinked her eyes rapidly to make the fog disappear and she focused on Harry's face. He was trying not to smile. She frowned, but found it too painful to maintain and just when she was about to lose consciousness, Harry rolled off her.

She flooded her lungs with oxygen – deep, even breaths that belied the fact she'd almost been choked to death. Then she stood up.

Her hair was a humid mess – the parts that weren't sticking up every which way were matted to her forehead with sweat. She had a long bleeding gash along her hairline from forehead to cheekbone, and her jaw was swollen and most likely broken. A blackened right eye matched the yellowy-green bruises dotting her visible skin and the swollen purple band across her throat. There was a streak of blood across her blouse and it seemed the cracked rib had punctured the skin.

Harry, though better off, looked a lot worse. His nose had stopped bleeding and the coppery rust color was smeared across the lower half of his face. The elbow Hermione had graced his cheek with had ruptured a sizely amount of blood vessels beneath the surface and his left side was an ugly violet color. The crooked set of his nose was only marginally offset by the large goose egg on his brow.

The only other part of him that showed as much damage as his face were his arms. The slender half-moons of Hermione's nails had pooled with blood around his wrists. Those same nails had carved dozens of bloody furrows down each arm. His sleeves were bloody taters and his forearms were slick with cooling crimson.

They looked awful.

"Hermione! Are you alright?" Remus ran to her and gingerly began probing her injuries. Hermione didn't flinch, scream, or take any notice of him at all.

"Hand-to-hand combat," she repeated, taking several steps towards Ron and the Marauders with Remus keeping a concerned step beside her. "Messy, bloody; _old-fashioned_. It's something most wizards nowadays won't expect. One of the secondary units in the war will be spell-locked with protection and sent in to fight hand to hand."

Lily tentatively raised her hand, and Hermione nodded at her. Dropping her hand back in her lap, she fidgeted anxiously apparently afraid that she'd be volunteered for the next sparring demonstration. "Umm...will we be a part of that, er, _unit_?"

Hermione gave a Gallic shrug that meant everything and nothing. "It's my job to see where your talent lies. If you're of best use in arms combat then you'll be put under Harry's guidance. He'll be leading that battalion."

"What piece do you lead?" James asked, his presence as he stood beside Lily's rock calming her.

"Ron and I are merely soldiers. We'll go where Dumbledore tells us."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Sirius muttered.

Hermione's head whipped around to face him, cold eyes staring him down reproachfully. It was then that he noticed the peach coloring returning to her cheeks and the swelling in her jaw had all but disappeared. He was ignoring her stare and focusing instead on how to piece together what his brain was telling him. She'd been talking for the last few minutes – an act that with a broken jaw was impossible – and the injuries he was sure she'd had just five minutes were nearly gone.

She was healing right before his eyes.

Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts. "What you are seeing is the _Decantalus_ spell. It only lasts for five minutes, but it heals all **minor** injuries sustained in that amount of time."

"I've never heard of that charm," James murmured.

"Neither have I," Sirius added.

"And Sirius and I know all there is to know about Charms," James looked a little upset at the lack of knowledge.

Hermione tossed her ponytail back over her shoulder. "It's not a charm."

"It's a dark spell," Lily said quietly. "Of the most advanced kind."

Hermione nodded in confirmation.

"It was only a theory in our time. How did you manage it, Hermione?"

Hermione knelt beside the lake and began to wash herself clean of the dirt and blood. Harry crouched beside her and did the same. "Voldemort perfected it and I mastered it," she explained bluntly, splashing water over her face. "We're in the process of teaching it to all the Order members, but it's difficult."

"The Order?" James questioned.

"The Order of the Phoenix," Ron amended. "The Resistance, the Good Guys, whatever you want to call us. It's a group of witches and wizards working in secret to defeat Voldemort."

Hermione straightened using the sleeve of her discarded robe to dab the beads of water from her face. "Each time we train in fighting I'll cast the spell, and each of you I'm sure will be able to cast your own Numbing Charm?"

"That's why you weren't screaming," Remus sighed in relief. "You couldn't feel anything."

There was a loud pop and they turned to see Harry's nose had snapped back into place. He wiggled it experimentally and grinned.

"Right," Hermione cleared her throat. "Let's pair up. Harry – you'll be the one to take two."

Harry nodded without argument.

She put her hand to her chin and thought for a moment. "Remus go with Ron, and Harry you take James and Lily."

"You wanted me all for yourself, did you pigeon?" Sirius drawled with a suave smile.

Hermione ignored him, picking up her wand to cast the _Decantalus_ spell once more. "Let's begin," she said.

"You know, Hermione, you shouldn't high kick like that in a skirt," he leered, fingering his wand. "You gave Harry quite a view."

"My eyes were on her face, Black," Harry said with a pointed look, moving his group away from the other two.

"We'll go over a few basic moves first." Hermione was awfully gifted at ignoring everyone around her.

"Pff," Sirius snorted. "No need."

"Alright," Hermione dead-panned, and her fist rocketed into his face. A round-house kick caught him mid-fall and sent him sprawling onto his back yelling in pain.

"BLOODY HELL!" He cradled his cheek, already turning colors; he scowled at Hermione who was looking down at him, with her blank expression flickering slightly and her pale face glowing from residual lake water.

She looked almost disappointed.

"You neglected your Numbing Charm."

Then she turned away from him and towards the others who were wisely remaining silent. Sirius was the only one it seemed who hadn't learned to keep his mouth shut. "We'll start with the five basic attacks first and then move into combinations. When you have mastered that, we'll move on to sparring."

As Harry stepped forward to demonstrate the first of the five attacks, Sirius pulled himself angrily to his feet. He moved in beside Remus and tried to catch Hermione's gaze, but her eyes were closed, and if he looked hard enough the air around her was shimmering slightly.

By the time each of them had gotten the combinations down (Remus taking longer than most) it was time for class, and Sirius had been unable to get Hermione's guarded look of disappointment out of his mind.

As they were all gathering up their things, Sirius jogged to catch up with her.

"Listen...I'm sorry about earlier..." He mumbled trying not to sound too pitiful. The look was still bothering him.

He was rewarded by a startlingly exuberant smile. Training was over and Hermione Granger was back in force. "We'd better hurry, or you'll be serving detention instead of helping me with that prophecy."

It still unnerved him how easy it was for her to slip between such polar opposite personalities, but he grabbed her hand and began pulling her after him as he ran crazily up the steep slopes of the grounds. "Then let's not be late!"

"Sirius!" She called, but her laughter drowned out her cries for him to stop.

He stopped to pull open the entrance doors, but it was so sudden that Hermione came crashing into them and they both ran straight into the heavy wooden doors.

"Trying to cripple me, pigeon, isn't going to make me late for class," he teased, rubbing his arm. "I wouldn't miss our rendezvous for the world."

She cleared her throat. "I'm..._sorry_," she said it with such gravity that Sirius knew instinctively it wasn't running into him that she was apologizing for.

After a moment of silent deliberation, in which the others were given enough time to catch up, he smiled at her. "Don't worry about."

Hermione's shoulders sagged in relief and she grinned. It was the mega-watt smile that could light up a room and make his own lips twitch upwards. In one big herd they hurried through the entrance hall and then split off in different directions for their separate classes.

Sirius wasn't late

--

--

In response to the tawny owl that had swooped down on her during class, Hermione broke away fro the crowd rushing out of Muggle studies and turned her footsteps to the Grand Staircase. Just then, someone grabbed her sleeve.

"Hermione! Where are you going?" Lily asked walking with her.

Hermione waved the note she'd received absently. "Dumbledore's."

Lily gave her a stern look, "You're not going to be late for your date are you?"

"Date?" She repeated, perplexed.

"With Sirius!"

"One," Hermione started tersely, lifting her fingers up for Lily to see. "It's Dumbledore and I'll stay as long as he needs me to. Two – it's _not_ a date."

"Remus seems to think so."

Instantly, Hermione's face flushed. Throwing her situation with Remus back in her face was something Hermione really couldn't handle at the moment.

She did her best to fake innocence. "Why would Remus care."

Lily grinned devilishly and it gave her a pixie-like quality. "Oh, I've heard about the "history" behind you two...Ginny told me after that escapade at lunch."

Hermione cringed. She made a mental note to hex the youngest Weasley.

"Oh, yes!" Lily's face was triumphant. "That little piece of information you neglected to tell me."

"It didn't seem that relevant," Hermione mumbled, finding instant fascination with the paintings passing by them.

"Bloody hell it didn't," Lily accused, and Hermione had the decency to look chagrined.

"Don't you start too," she groaned.

"Harry and Ron have been giving me a hard time," she supplied in response to Lily's inquiring look and raised eyebrows.

"About Remus?"

"About the both of them," she clarified.

"Duh!"

Hermione glared at her and almost missed her turnoff.

"They're obviously quite taken with you."

Finally throwing her hands up in the air Hermione exclaimed "I don't want to be taken with. I don't want to be _took_ anywhere!"

"Dear lady!" Cried one of the portraits. "Is there something the matter?"

Hermione stomped right past the old man and his shaggy gray dog with Lily trailing after. "She's got two blokes terribly mad for her," the red-head said in a loud stage-whisper.

The old man tapped his nose knowingly and Lily winked at him before a screeching Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her down the hall. "Will you stop it," Hermione insisted.

"Why?" Lily drawled. "Trying to hide your own _passionate_ urges?" She flung her arms out at the last part her loud voice catching the attention of a few passing Hufflepuffs. They stared openly and Lily waved cheekily at them.

"I _will_ hex you," Hermione hissed. She quickened her pace, stalking broodingly ahead in what looked like an attempt to escape her tag-along.

"I have no doubt."

"You don't have to walk me there, you know." It was a poor way of trying to get Lily to ditch her.

"Oh no!" Lily tossed her hair flippantly back over her shoulder. She called her tease as Hermione turned the corner. "I'm going to make sure you're not running off to meet Remus in a broom closet or something."

**CRASH!**

Hermione had walked straight into one of the suits of armor that bordered Dumbledore's office doorway. She lay in a heap of metal plates, her legs thrown up in a very undignified way. If Lily had been able to stop laughing long enough to help her, it was highly unlikely Hermione would have allowed it. As it was, she was digging herself out from underneath the collapsed suit, cursing all the while.

"Oh, cork it," she growled at Lily, kicking a silver shoulder plate at her.

"That was _priceless_."

"I'm leaving now."

Hermione barked the password to Dumbledore's office and stomped up the spiral stairs as they appeared.

"Don't be late!" Lily called sternly up after her, sticking her head into the doorway.

The last corner of Hermione's robes disappeared around the stairwell with a swish. "Yeah, yeah."

Shaking her head, Lily whipped the armor suit back into place with a wave of her wand and headed down to the Great Hall.

--

--

Hermione never showed up for dinner. Lily reassured them all that Hermione had promised not to be late, and they took it in stride, finishing their dinner at an unrushed pace before moving to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Each hour passed agonizingly slow. The hour of training came and went, without a showing from Hermione.

The fire cracked and sizzled in the fireplace. The conversation around the common room was forcedly upbeat and a little tense. Harry kept shooting furtive glances at the portrait...

...but it never opened.

At half-past eleven (nearly six hours after Hermione disappeared into the Headmasters office) Sirius threw his quill down on the book table and shoved his chair roughly back. The rest of them looked up in surprise.

"I'm going to bed."

Lily scrambled out of James lap and tried to stop him. "Just wait a little longer," she pleaded. "She'll be here."

"Whatever," he muttered. Hands crammed deep into his pockets he slouched up the stairs and disappeared into the boys' dormitory.

Lily slowly sank back down into the warm space she'd recently vacated between James' long legs. "I don't understand," she said, and looked genuinely confused. "She promised she wouldn't be late."

"She's not just late, Lily," Remus's eyes darted to the door. "She hasn't even showed up, and it's been _hours_. And she completely blew off training."

"I'm worried." They all looked to Harry who was sitting in the armchair that faced the portrait entrance, his elbow on the armrest and his fist pressed to his mouth.

Ron patted Harry on the back. "I'm sure she's fine, mate. She was with Dumbledore after all."

Harry sighed and his fist dropped into his lap. "I don't like him making all these demands on her."

"There's nothing we can do about that," Ron said. "She's a very capable witch and you know she wants to be of as much help as she can..."

Remus stretched his sore arms up over his head. "She certainly is the brightest witch of her age."

Harry and Ron both tensed, remembering those same words spoken four years ago in the Shrieking Shack. Lupin had been nearly thirty five then. Sirius too.

"Do you think we should check on her?" Harry whispered more to Ron than the rest of them.

Ron sighed. "We'd know if she was in trouble. Let's just go to bed and leave it be."

Harry agreed with reluctance, but opted to wait a little longer while the other retired to bed. Eventually, he too left the common room for bed, the last of the flames dying out in the hearth.

--

--

The quietude of the shadowed common room was broken by the low creaking of hinges at quarter to one. The creak echoed again as the portrait door drifted back shut.

She slipped off her Mary Janes and, holding them by the backs in her hands, she tiptoed on cat's feet to each staircase; checking that no one was still awake. Then she made her way to the couch – now devoid of any warmth that might have alluded to its previous use. She sank into the plush cushions and leaned her head back. A low breath escaped her lips.

The moonlight from one of the bay windows caught her pale face in its ivory beams and chased the shadows from her closed eyes; her round face glowing. A shimmering like diamonds in starlight sparked beneath her lashes and spread along the dark ebony fringe.

That's how the tears began.

They rolled down her cheeks in mercurial waves, tinted silver by the ethereal moonlight, and splashed into her hair. Her image in the white glow shook, trembling beneath continuous onslaught of the moon's rays. She pitched forward and caught her face in her hands.

In the darkened shadows her tears were nothing but dark droplets running over her fingers and dripping through onto the bared flesh of her thighs. Like celestial fingers the blue-white light reached out for her, the moon moving higher in the sky, and placed a comforting hand across her back. As she trembled the ends of her curls caught in the moonlight and bleached amber, swaying across the silvery circle of her robes.

She sniffled softly and it was the loudest sound in the common room. Wiping at her eyes with the already dampened sleeve of her robes, she slowly unclenched her fist. A formal, if slightly crumpled, parchment lay in her hand. Its words squinted up at her and she could hear it laughing at her, mocking her despair. A tear drop fell upon the paper, smearing the Ministry crest at its top.

Her fingers curled back around the parchment and the paper that had been tear-stained and dried too many times crinkled loudly in protest. She imagine the words dying in her hand as she forced it back into the tight ball it'd come from. But in the end, it was just a piece of paper, and all the crumpling in the world couldn't stop what was going to happen.

She ran a hand through her hair and pressed her palm to her forehead. Through the strands of bushy hair trailing between her fingers she watched the moonlight move across the floor and gently reach out to tentatively touch her stocking feet. The lines blurred and she let the tears roll again down her cheeks as they had so many times before.

With the moon as her soul companion the only sound was her quiet sniffling in the dark.

--

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I know the ending may be a little confusing – but, trust me! I DO have a plan. Please Review – it means the world to me.


	9. VIII Picnic by the Lake

Let it be known that I had this chapter done at 11 o'clock two nights ago, but then my internet went out and then I couldn't log in to the frackin' site, and then I could log in but couldn't update. Soo...things beyond my control. (though still very aggravating)

Sirius: 16

Remus: 14

Threesome: 4

Wow...and we're back to Sirius in the lead, which is perfect timing for this chapter. I mean...not that there's anything going on between them in this DON'T SKIP AHEAD!

Oh...and brownie points to **ChibiKai02**.

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Harry woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. Grabbing his glasses off his bedside table he looked about for the cause of his sudden awakening. Ron was mumbling about spiders in his sleep beside him, and either James or Remus was snoring. Sirius was hanging half out of his bed and when he breathed, the curtain twisted around him would slide back and forth across the bed frame.

The rest of the dorm was empty.

Scrambling out of bed, he looked to the clock hanging obscurely on the wall. 7:58. And Hermione hadn't come to wake them.

"EVERYBODY UP!" He bellowed and there were several **thumps!** as bodies hit the floor.

But Harry was already running down the stairs, his pajamas half-transfigured into his uniform. He got about halfway up to the girls' dorms when the stairs flattened into a slide and sent him rocketing back down into an unceremonious heap in the common room floor.

"LILY!" He yelled, hoping the redhead could hear him.

There was a small sound behind him – a sleepy mewling. He caught sight of bushy brown hair and all his fears evaporated. Quietly he moved over to the couch and knelt down beside her face. As if sensing his presence, her body rolled over to face him. She was still wearing her school uniform. He watched her face snuggling into the cushions of the armrest and noted the sticky sheen that caught in the faint sunlight.

She murmured something in her dreams and Harry thought he misheard, but then she whispered it again.

"Harry."

Fondly, he brushed the curls from her face and tucked them behind her ear. "I'm here, Hermione," he whispered.

Her brow furrowed in sleep and there was a sound of cloth stretching as her fingers curled into the fabric of the couch. "Need..." her plea was strained. "I need..."

Harry slid his hand under hers, breaking her hold on the cushion, and interlaced their fingers. He continued to stroke her face hoping it would soothe her troubled dreams. He worried what had happened lasts night that would make her so distressed – something rare for the collected Head Girl.

"What is it?" He whispered to her. "What do you need?"

Her face turned into the armrest in hiding. Her hair fell back across her face like a curtain of toffee. "Happy," her words came mumbled through the thick cushion fabric. "Need...happiness..."

Harry listened in pained confusion and watched her body twist in increased discomfort from her thoughts. Her mouth opened and shut several times without a word being uttered and the breaths from between her lips were shallow and shuddering. "Harry..." She moaned his name, her face taking on a pained expression.

"Hermione?" His volume picked up as his concern for her mounted. "Hermione?!"

"THEY'RE COMING!" Hermione sat bolt upright as she screamed the words.

The Marauders froze at the bottom of their staircase, and Lily at hers, all watching Hermione panting for breath. Then the stalemate broke and they all went running for the couch. Lily helped Harry up off the floor where he'd been knocked down and the boys piled around the couch.

"Hermione – are you alright?" Remus asked. His gray-blue eyes were full of concern.

Still short of breath, she flung herself into his arms. She pulled Sirius down beside her and hugged him as well. Grabbing sleeves and shirts she got everyone onto the couch and did her best to hug them all.

"I had an awful nightmare," she conceded when her breath returned.

"Oy, Hermione..." Ron teased quietly. "You're crushing me." Somehow Ron had ended up with Hermione sitting on his waist. She laughed in mirth, glad she could always count on her best friend to lift her spirits.

"Let's skip classes."

"Now I think you really have gone mad." James comment earned him a playful smack.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?" Harry demanded, from his squished position between Lily and the armrest, Ron's bony legs under him.

"How did _I_ end up on the bottom!?" Ron demanded, and everyone burst out laughing causing some of them to nearly fall right off the piled couch.

"Come on you guys," Remus managed through his chuckles. "Knoll won't mind if we're late – we should go."

Hermione actually pouted. "Oh, alright."

She crawled out from underneath Sirius and James and transfigured her rumbled clothes into a set of new ones. Somehow, everyone got off the couch with a minimal amount of bruises and a healthy amount of laughter.

"I think all these boys are having a bad influence on you," Lily decided as she straightened out her skirt.

"Afraid you'll be the only bookworm left, Lils?" James teased, throwing his arm around her as the group headed out into the hall.

She sighed dramatically drawing a grin from her boyfriend. "I've still got Remus."

James grin grew wider as he looked down the hall and he nudged her affectionately. "I wouldn't be so sure."

She followed his gaze as he nodded his head up a ways. Groaning in frustration, she walked with James to where Hermione and Remus were crouched down side by side in a ridiculous resemblance of Muggle runners.

"What are you doing?" She asked in a way that clearly said she didn't want to know.

"Remus said he could beat me to DADA," Hermione scoffed, flipping her hair back of her shoulders with a toss of her head.

"My money's on Hermione," Harry said, clearly the officiator of the race.

"Mine too," Ron agreed.

Sirius cleared his throat loudly enough to warrant their attention. "I could beat her," he boasted confidently. He ran a hand through his long hair as he leaned against the wall.

"Care to put your galleons where your mouth is, pretty boy?" Hermione challenged, a wry grin on her face. "One box of chocolate frogs says I win."

Sirius smirked and pushed away from the wall, "You're on."

"I'm the only sane one left," Lily bemoaned, placing a hand to her forehead.

"First one to the Defense doorway," Hermione decreed, and the other two boys nodded their acknowledgement.

Back to the wall, Harry stood beside the three of them and lifted his wand in the air. "On your marks...get set...GO!"

Green sparks exploded from his wand and the three racers took off. Sirius was in the lead when they turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Ron guided the others through a tapestry that led to their classroom; a magical shortcut that put them at the finish line to watch the final leg of the race.

Hermione kept a steady third place patiently waiting for the boys to tire from vying against one another. Sirius had his Quidditch training to his advantage, but Remus was a full-fledged werewolf.

Unfortunately for the both of them, Hermione had spent her entire summer in twelve times earth's gravity. She was stronger, faster, and more agile – and they were going to lose.

They hit the last corner and Hermione slipped to the inside of the turn, jetting ahead of them both from her position advantage. Pushing off the wall, she darted in front of Remus, cutting him off. Neck and neck with Sirius she saw her friends waiting for them at the end of the hallway and waving.

She surged forward.

Legs moving faster than anyone could see, she sprinted down the cobblestones leaving the boys far behind her. Just before she ran smack into her spectators she vaulted over them out of a front handspring and landed primly in front of the DADA door.

"I win!" She declared, triumphantly, before Sirius and Remus came bowling right into her.

The door slammed open under the force and the seven of them tumbled into the classroom, laughing hysterically. The entire class was staring at them.

Knoll's pointing stick smacked the chalkboard and made the room jump. "While you're over there do something useful and hand out those crates," she barked, the large peacock feather of her hat bobbing in front of her face.

Remus muttered an 'i-told-you-so' and Hermione and Lily stifled back their giggles to help the boys pass out the crates as they were instructed. The rest of the Gryffindors were laughing into their books as the seven slid into their seats while the Ravenclaws gave them disapproving looks.

While Knoll lectured about "constant vigilance" in a very Moody-esque manner, Hermione leaned into Sirius' side and turned her head to whisper in his ear.

"I'm sorry about last night," she breathed against his neck, stirring the cinnamon scent of his cologne around her face.

"Forget it," he murmured back, quill doodling nonsensical scribbles across his notebook to appear like he was taking notes.

Hermione placed a hand on his arm. "I haven't been very nice since you got here, and I want to make it up to you." She looked out of the dark strands of his hair that had fallen over her cheek to make sure Knoll was still ranting.

"What did you have in mind, pigeon?" He inquired suggestively.

She pinched his arm to let him know the nickname wasn't appreciated, and leaned a little closer. "Meet me down by the lake after afternoon classes," she breathed, blowing his hair along his jaw.

Then she pulled away and bent over her notebook, borrowing Remus' to catch up on the notes she had missed. Sirius caught Lily giving a thumbs up and rolled his eyes, glancing up at the clock at the front of the room, its pendulum moving back and forth across the chalkboard.

8:10.

He started counting down the hours.

--

--

"Have you guys seen Sirius?" Lily asked, throwing her bag on the Gryffindor bench.

James shook his head, knocking crumbs all over the table cloth. "He ran off after Astronomy; looked like he was in a hurry."

Lily clapped her hands excitedly, but wouldn't explain it to the boys. As the rest of the school poured in for dinner, she waved Ginny over – having taken an immediate liking to the vivacious, if a bit spacey, younger girl. Plus, redheads had to stick together, right?

The youngest and only Weasley girl plopped down next to her and immediately began babbling about some Herbology project. She stopped instantly when Lily, doing her best through her excited giggles, began whispering to her.

The boys stared at the pink-faced girls in consternation and shook their heads before indulging in a little Quidditch talk.

--

--

"Hermione?" Sirius called as he wandered down the stone path to the lake. "Hermione..."

He was a little unsure if she was going to ditch him again, but he broke into a grin when he saw her pop out from behind one of the lakeside trees.

"Sirius!" She called, waving broadly. "Down here! I hope you're hungry."

Sirius chucked his robes down at the base of the tree and sat down on the warm stretch of grass beside Hermione. She was in the middle of unpacking a small feast between them; a dozen pumpkin pasties, Shepard's pie, strawberry tarts, a container of baked chicken, and a flagon of dandelion cordial.

"I figured I'd bring something to eat since I asked you to miss dinner. Sometimes I forget I'm the only one who doesn't eat on a regular basis," she laughed lightly, brushing wisps of hair from her face. The rest of her curls were up in a bouncy ponytail on top of her head.

"Don't mind if I do," he said, swiping a piece of chicken out from under her and popping it in his mouth.

Hermione leaned back against the tree's trunk and simply watched him eat. After a few minutes he sat back with the flagon of cordial and brushed back his long hair to smirk at her.

"Enchanted by my devilishly good looks?"

"No," Hermione said simply. She played with a small twig, drawing patterns in the dirt and grass. "Just trying to figure you out."

"If it helps, I can't figure _you_ out either," he said, gesturing with the flagon.

Hermione chuckled, twirling the twig in her fingers. "Well, that's why we're here." Folding her hands into her lap, she gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me about yourself Mister Black."

She'd forgotten glasses, so Sirius took a long drink straight from the flagon. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he set the cordial down, and, following her example, leaned back against the tree with his arms folded behind his head.

"Well, you just happen to be sitting in the presence of _the_ greatest prankster of all time..."

Hermione listened to him recount his tales of marauding with rapt attention, laughing as he described how he doused the entire great hall with red and gold paint during the winter dance, and giving him a frowning look of disapproval when he talked about tormenting a young version of her Potion's professor.

"What about you?" He asked, when he could think of no more stories to tell. The sky was turning dark as he passed the half-empty flagon of cordial to her.

Hermione took it from him and gulped some of it down while she decided where to begin. Her recent past contained too much information that she wasn't sure she should divulge just yet. Smiling softly at him she began to tell him about her childhood.

"I grew up in Sussex, England. My parents are two Muggle dentists, so I grew up going to a school nearby. I didn't have any idea that magic was real until I got my Hogwarts letter," she explained.

"Lily was the same way," Sirius said. "She told me once that Petunia was _furious_ she never got a letter."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, I'm an only child."

Sirius made a face. "You're lucky. My younger brother Regulus is a real pain. My parents worship him 'cause he became a Death Eater last spring."

He winced at his mistake. "_My_ last spring at least." Hermione smiled apologetically.

"You don't want to be a Death Eater then?" She asked casually, not meeting his eyes as she began repacking the food.

"Never!" He exclaimed immediately. "Nobody tells _Sirius Black_ what to do."

He watched her lips curve into a slow smile as she refilled the picnic basket she'd carried the food down in. "I can see that..." she murmured. Taking another swig of cordial she passed the drink on to Sirius.

He paused before drinking, and smirked at her. "So tell me, Miss Granger. What's something about you that no one else knows?"

"Ah," she laughed. "You want to know a secret..."

"I want to know about _you_," he corrected, drinking a bit.

'Hmm'ing to herself, Hermione put a hand on her chin and rooted through the many things she could tell him. Finally, she settled on one that would satisfy him without making him ask any questions about his future she wouldn't be able to answer.

"I like to take moonlight swims down in the lake," she told him, latching the picnic basket shut.

"In the nude?" he hinted suggestively.

Hermione just laughed. "You wish."

"Dinner's done, the moon is out," he nodded up to the starry sky.

Narrowing in on his profile in the dark, she gave him a pointed look; though, in all fairness it was one he probably couldn't see. "What are you suggesting, Mister Black?" she laughed.

"Perhaps I should accompany you on your little swim," he said, getting to his feet.

"Are you crazy?" She exclaimed as he shrugged out of his shirt and kicked off his shoes and socks.

"No, I'm serious," he caught her while she was laughing and pulled off her Mary Janes.

"What are you doing?!" Hermione shouted trying to grab for her shoes. He threw them off by his.

"Don't make me sit on you," he warned with a grin. Hermione scrambled away on all fours, but he caught her around the waist and wrestled her to the ground. He actually did sit on her and slid his hands down her legs pulling off each knee-high sock.

"You had better not—" She insisted in hiccups as she tried to swallow her laughter.

She squealed as he scooped her up into his arms and dashed down to the lake. She clutched to his neck as if he might drop her and kicked her legs. "SIRIUS!"

"Come on...it'll be fun!" He laughed.

"I don't even have a swimsuit!"

"Me neither – we'll match."

The dark water was getting closer and Sirius didn't show any sign of slowing down.

"Put me down this instant!" She demanded.

"Deep breath!" He shouted. He leapt off the edge of the bank, Hermione screaming his name at the top of her lungs.

"SIRIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!"

The icy cold water rolled over her head as she went under and felt Sirius' arms leave her. Her feet touched the bottom of the shallows and she pushed off hard shooting back up and breaking through the surface. Sirius' dark head popped up beside her and she splashed him.

"Y-you're g-gonna be in B-BIG t-trouble, mister," she chattered, the shock in the change of temperature freezing her inside and out. "B-BIG TROUBLE!"

She'd lost her hair tie in the impact and her bushy hair was plastered to her face and throat. She pushed it out of her eyes and saw Sirius doing the same. "If I freeze to death," she grumbled. "It'll be entirely your fault."

"Why don't I just warm you up?" he smirked, paddling over to her and wrapping his arms around her. "I think you've got more clothes on than I do."

"T-True, but I'm in a skirt," she reminded him. "It's not exactly staying flat against my legs."

He glanced down as if he could see through the black waters and she smacked him, laughing. "Don't you even try anything."

"Wouldn't _dream_ of it." He pushed off the ground a bit and they floated back into slightly deeper water his hands still on her waist. They had to tread water to stay afloat, but neither of them seemed to mind the exercise. She'd also hate to admit it, but she was a lot warmer now, and taking a swim with him didn't seem so bad.

"Are things okay between us, Sirius?" she asked, bracing her hands on his shoulders.

"We've always been okay, pigeon," he smiled, spinning them around and making the water ripple widely around them. "You worry too much."

"You're a good friend," she murmured. "James is lucky to have you. Remus and Lily too," she added quickly.

"Nah," he spun them slowly again. "I think you've got me beat in the best friend's category."

"I keep them from flunking out of school," she snorted. "Hardly noble prize worthy."

"Yeah right," He pressed his forehead against hers. "Don't think I don't notice everything you do around here. You're like Hogwarts' Wonder Woman."

Hermione gave him a quizzical look. "I didn't think you knew Muggle culture."

"Lily and Remus make a point of keeping James and I up on it."

"Good for them," she giggled at his annoyed look.

"Whatever you say, pigeon," he drawled as they found their way back to the shallows. She swayed back and forth with the waves until Sirius lifted her off the ground and began to dance with her in circles. Substantially shorter than he was, Hermione stepped onto Sirius' feet and let him guide her.

Laughing, she hid her face in the crook of his neck and he dipped her down low, her hair disappearing under the dark water. "You're ridiculous," she chided, pushing her sopping wet hair out of her eyes.

"What? You never do this sort of thing with Harry?"

Hermione grinned, fondly remembering the memories his words had evoked. "Once Seamus flooded the common room with bath foam," she laughed softly. "Ron challenged Harry and me to a 'dance off'..."

Sirius chuckled at the image of a group of soaked Gryffindors dancing around in three feet of bubble foam. It sounded so amusing, he logged it away to use if he ever got back to his time.

"It's just...I never thought I'd be dancing with you," her breath hot against his neck as he spoke. She'd laid her head back down.

"In the lake?" He grinned.

She laughed. "In the lake."

"Well, it's always been one of my _deepest_ fantasy," he insisted dramatically, whirling her about. "I lure you into the waters late at night and ravish you senseless."

They were both laughing full-blown now and Hermione smacked his shoulder. "You're terrible," she yelled, knocking her knees with his and making them both stumble back and slosh the lake water.

"I'm seducing you already," he teased, squeezing her waist.

"Tell me a secret, Sirius," she asked, a faint smile lining her lips. They were so close that they blocked out the moonlight and each of their faces were doused in shadow.

"Hmm," he pursed his lips. "What do you want to know, pigeon?"

"Why do you call me that?" she asked. Her fingers caught in his hair as the water swelled and she shook the strands off, waiting patiently for him to answer.

"You see yourself as ordinary," he said finally. "And you let everyone thing your just some plain Jane; nothing of consequence."

"Just a rat with wings," she tried to laugh it off.

Sirius grabbed her chin with his fingertips and raised it up into the light. Soft, pale moonlight exploded across her features and her honey eyes glowed brilliant gold while Sirius brushed the slick curls back from her cheeks. "But inside you're a _phoenix_ – more beautiful than words."

Hermione's brow furrowed and she leaned back out of his fingertips. "Sirius?" she whispered in disbelief.

He placed a hand over her arm, keeping her hand on his shoulder and her fingers tangled in his hair, and lifted the other to her cheek. Too startled to move, Hermione's eyes closed as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.


	10. IX Rules to be Followed

Sirius: 18  
Remus: 22  
Threesome: 4

Wow...that kiss got an overwhelming turnout for RL/HG shippers. But remember everybody – nothing is set in stone...we're only ten chapters in.

To **Gayle**: You're right. I went back and looked over what I'd written, and you're absolutely right. Now I dislike her too, lol. I shall try and correct my error in the future chapters, thought the triangle is an important part of the ending so I can't kill it completely. We'll just make her a little more conscientious and non-headgame-y, shall we?

Schedule:

Next chapter: Hogsmeade trip

Chapter after: Fast forward a couple weeks? Find out about what that parchment said. Will be LONG chapter. – get pumped.

* * *

Hermione held on tight, for if she didn't she feared she'd fall right out of his arms. He kissed her hard and deep with a passion that made her skin burn and her toes curl. But all good things must come to an end. When their need for oxygen became too great, Sirius pulled away with one last caress to her cheek.

"Hermione?" His warm breath burned on her flushed skin. "Hermione?"

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with eyes glossy and lips bruised red. "_Sirius_..." she murmured, having a difficult time forming any sort of words at all.

"We should go back?" His raised voice at the end made it a question. His hands on her waist on the look in his dark eyes begged her to stay.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and cleared it. "Yeah...the others will be worried..."

She slipped off his feet and sunk a little into the sand. Sirius let her go.

_This is wrong. This shouldn't have happened!_

"Turn around," she told him.

"What?"

"I'm wet, my clothes are going to be clingy – turn around," she insisted.

Sirius bit back his laughter and did as she instructed, listening carefully to the slosh of water as she climbed back onto the bank and the odd suctioning sound as she peeled the clothes away from her skin.

"Are you decent?" he teased.

"Oh, just get out already," she griped.

Sirius turned around and was met with a long length of leg. Hermione was wringing out her skirt, and by the frustrated look on her face it wasn't making much difference.

He climbed out as well and tried to squeeze the water out of his pants. He took his robe and used it rub his hair dry. He offered it to Hermione, but she declined it saying, "It'll make my hair poofy".

She stuffed her socks in her shoes and threw her robes over her arm, grabbing the picnic basket, and then waiting for Sirius to do the same before they started the walk back up to the castle.

_Dumbledore'd be furious if he found out._ She groaned inwardly. _I probably just killed Harry's parents before he was born or something._

Halfway up the stone path, Sirius put his arm over Hermione's shivering shoulders, but she stepped out of it by picking up her pace and admonishing him for making her stay out too late.

_This is all such a mess..._

Having created a dripping ruin that Filch would be furious over from the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Sirius stepped back to hold the portrait door open for Hermione and she slipped inside. Sirius followed after.

Hermione had made it halfway through the common room before she was spotted.

"HERMIONE?"

She waved weakly at Harry's face appearing over the back of the couch. "Hullo, Harry." The others' faces appeared as well. "Hullo everyone."

"What the hell happened to you?" Ron interjected. "You look like a drowned cat."

Hermione glared at him. "Thanks, Ronald."

"We went for a little swim," Sirius commented causally, brushing back his long hair.

"_In your clothes_?" Lily cried in disbelief.

"Blame him," Hermione said blandly, and chucked the picnic basket at the smirking Sirius, who looked incredibly too pleased with himself. He caught it easily and tossed it off to James, who, consequently, got hit in the head and almost knocked out of the chair.

"I'm going to get cleaned up," Hermione informed them and disappeared into her Head Girl quarters without a backwards glance.

"So, Padfoot," James said slowly, taking the opportunity of catching Sirius alone. He was grinning from ear to ear. "You weren't at dinner."

"No, I wasn't," he agreed with a jovial smile. Kicking Harry's legs off the coffee table he propped his own up on the wooden furniture piece and slouched down into the couch.

James looked aghast. "Were you doing something untoward with our dear Miss Granger?"

"Blimey!" Ron gagged. "That's my best mate you're talking about."

Sirius and James both laughed heartily. "I never kiss and tell," Sirius guffawed snatching some ice mice from Lily.

"You didn't kiss her," Remus told him confidently. Sirius was a ladies' man, but he couldn't have gotten to Hermione, right?

Sirius just waggled his eyebrows.

Remus cursed his own slowness.

"It doesn't matter anyways," Lily announced primly. "Because Hermione will tell me everything."

"Yeah right, babe," James teased, flipping her immaculately straight hair over her head.

"Squeaky clean!" Hermione called loudly, bounding back into the room. She'd changed into a plain set of navy shorts and a white t-shirt, with her thigh-length, canary colored bathrobe loosely tied around her middle.

"You shower too quickly," Harry complained. "We were just getting to the juicy details."

_He wouldn't tell everyone, would he?_

Hermione's sharp eyes drifted to Sirius – whose look of innocence was too fake to be believable – and she smiled faintly. "I'm sure," she drawled, her words practically dripping sarcasm.

"Do you even own a nightgown, Hermione?" Lily blurted out in exasperation.

Hermione stopped halfway through a chocolate frog and its enchanted legs writhed between her lips. "Excuse me?" she mumbled through a mouthful of candy. She looked down at her pajamas.

_Lily _looked disgusted. "I think you've spent way too much time with the boys."

"And what's wrong with that?" Hermione laughed, slurping the frog's legs into her mouth while Ron laughed at her.

"Where's your feminine side?" Lily asked, incredulous.

Hermione grabbed another frog and glanced downwards at herself. "I'm pretty sure it's at the front."

The boys howled with laughter, while Lily became increasingly frustrated. Smacking James, she put her hands on her hips and frowned disapprovingly at Hermione who was laughing raucously.

"I'm serious!"

Sirius winked at her. "You can be me if you'd like, Lils," he teased.

A headless chocolate frog squirming in Hermione's fingers, she flopped down onto the corner of the couch where Harry was sitting. Putting her back to the armrest (and Lily), she stretched her legs out over Harry's lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Harry," she bemoaned dramatically, pressing her face into his shoulder.

"You smell like strawberries," he told her, randomly changing topics.

Hermione pulled away to bat her eyes coquettishly. "Really? Oh I was so frightfully hoping you'd notice," she gushed, earning snickers from their audience.

"It's very feminine," Harry said seriously. He nodded his head sagely.

"You think so!" The sound she made was squealing sort-of high pitched yip that made Remus and his highly sensitive hearing wince. "Does that mean you _love_ me now?"

Harry's lips were twitching to stay serious as he looked thoughtfully down into Hermione's wide and expectantly adoring eyes. "A bigger chest wouldn't hurt," he answered after much 'hmm'ing and 'huh'ing. "That'd make you more feminine."

"I can do that!" She insisted vehemently. "Really!" Her hands fluttered across his chest. "Anything you want, darling," she cooed.

"Kiss me!" He exclaimed dramatically.

Hermione fanned herself. "Oh my! You're such a charmer!"

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lowered a ridiculously puckered face on her and she half-screamed half-laughed, pushing him away with one hand and shoving her half-eaten chocolate frog into his fishy mouth.

Chomping contentedly on his chocolaty reward, Harry resettled Hermione on his lap and draped his arms over her legs. When the group's laughter finally receded, Sirius put on his most pitiful face and tweaked one of Hermione's toes.

"You kicked me you know," he complained. "With all that flailing about."

"Aww," she cooed sympathetically. "That wasn't very ladylike of me, was it?" she asked, looking slyly at Lily.

"I give up!" The redhead exacerbated, throwing her hands up into the air and, consequently, hitting her boyfriend in the face. James just wasn't having a very good night.

"Seems you're a lost cause, best friend Hermione," Ron mused. He shook his hair out of eyes and rooted through the pile of sweets on the table.

"Really?" She had to lean her head back over the armrest to look at Ron and the upside-down view of him was rather disorienting. "That's the cause I've always wanted to be."

He crawled over to her and dangled a licorice wand temptingly in front of her. "You know," he said, taking a big bite out of the candy before she could grab it. "Harry _never_ lets me sit on his lap."

"You're missing out," she said off-handily, snitching the licorice right out of his mouth. "Very comfy."

Ron chuckled as she happily finished off the candy wand and fell back against Harry. Used to having to work around her legs, Harry expertly reached for an acid pop and Hermione unwrapped it for him. Sirius cleared his throat, and Hermione – sleepy eyes closed – took it as a sign that she was kicking him again, so she curled her feet around Harry's legs and sighed softly. Ron however was eyeing the annoyed look on Sirius' face directed towards his two friends.

"It's getting a bit late, we should go to bed." Remus' voice was tight. When Ron glanced over at him, he could barely contain his amusement as he saw the lycan frowning at Hermione's back.

Ron shook his head. They'd probably never understand Hermione. Completely alienated from the bubble-headed females of their year and best friends with two males had, over the years, turned Hermione into a guy's gal. She was most comfortable around and in the company of guys. So far as he knew, his little sister was her only female friend (and probably Lily now too).

Circumstances had made her that way, and she filled her position as 'one of the guys' with gusto. Lily had hit the niffler right on the head – Hermione spent _all _her time with him and especially Harry. She'd once told the bespectacled boy that if he'd been gay it would have been TV show perfect. As it was, they were inseparably close and without doubt would be for the rest of their lives.

They were something Ron could always count on: Harry and Hermione; never one without the other. They would always be together – never dating – just _together_. It was a comforting constant in a life of inconsistency.

Of course, to his knowledge she'd never had any blokes interested in, much less two, and that made her behavior, personality, and relationship with Harry and himself much more easily misunderstood. At any rate, it was going to be amusing to watch.

The subject of his thoughts yawned and it was clear she was getting drowsy. Instead, she murmured; "I wanna sit by the fire a little longer."

Chuckling, Harry patted her knee and threw his other arm over the back of the couch. "I guess that means I'm staying too."

"Mmm hmm," she mumbled through a grin.

"Well, she _has_ gotten all situated..." James reasoned, cracking a smile. He never could be serious.

"It would help," she sighed. "if Remus and Sirius would stop glaring at me."

She opened one eye, smiling faintly at the varied looks of embarrassment and amusement on the faces of her friends. She stretched, pushing her toes into Sirius' side and brushing her fingertips against the table lamp behind her. "Alrighty," she yawned. "Bedtime."

"Finally," Harry exaggerated. He started to laugh when Hermione made no move to get up. "Um, bestest best friend...you gotta get up and go to your room."

"Too sleepy," she complained into the armrest.

With a roll of his eyes Ron hoisted her up onto his back. She cooperatively wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched his neck, letting her head loll on his shoulder. "I'll get her to bed. The rest of you head on up."

As they all put their stuff away and trekked to their respective dorms, they could hear Hermione mumbling all the way into her Head Girl rooms. "This is how it works," she said. "You put me to bed and I wake you up..._perfect_..."

_I'll talk to Ron about it..._

Hermione was wide awake.

* * *

"This spell is designed to tap into one's sense of self," Knoll barked out her lecture with audible precision. "When you are balanced your spells are bloody stronger. All-in-all, a handy spell to know. The incantation is _Liberatio Praebeo_ – long 'e' after the 'a'; don't want you turning into a ruddy milk carton."

Hermione had already written out the translation phonetically beneath the original incantation. It looked smart, but no one who was copying off her notes could make sense of it. Still, they copied it anyways.

"Now all you do is tap the top of your head and recite the incantation." She wrapped the top of her pointed hat with the long yard stick to demonstrate and barked out the spell.

"If you're unadventurous page one-ninety-two tells you what to expect," Knoll looked positively annoyed about divulging that fact.

Lily probably would have opened her book to read, but Knoll fixed her rather batty looking eyes on the redhead and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat trying not to open her DADA book. She glanced at Hermione.

"Are you gonna look?" She whispered, loud enough for Hermione to hear.

Hermione shook her head, in the middle of pushing up her sleeves. "I've already read this chapter."

Sirius groaned beside her, but Remus leaned in, almost conspiratorially, and whispered "me too". Hermione grinned.

"Did you read the part about Gwendolyn the Gorgon?" She giggled (for some unknown reason to the eavesdropping Sirius).

Remus started quietly laughing too. "As if she could use Atlantan dewdrops to—"

"—she might as well use a Himoglyphus charm," she finished for him, and they both laughed deliriously into their robe sleeves – a joke that Sirius was completely out of.

"You are such nerds," he sighed shaking his head.

"You think so?" Hermione scoffed.

"Yeah," he turned on devilish charm. "But it's sexy."

Hermione's eyebrow lifted as she prepared to cast her spell. "I wasn't aware you felt that way about Remus," she commented dryly.

Sirius groaned when Remus waved coquettishly at him.

"_Liberatio Praebeo_," Hermione recited perfectly as she tapped her hair with her wand tip. All around her students did the same.

She slipped into the predicted trance and waited for the blackness to fill her mind, but it didn't come. Instead, a bright blue sparkle darted across the white field of her vision. She watched it shift from red to gold to purple, and then it exploded in a silent burst of shimmering rainbow lights. The multitude of colors landed upon some unknown boundary and black ink spilled out from each contact point until she saw nothing but ebony. In time to the beating of her heart it pulsed to white and then back to black. Over and over again.

Sirius watched her eyelashes fluttering spastically against her face, a sliver of white peeking from beneath her jerking eyelids. "It can't be _that _bad," he muttered to himself and performed the charm as well.

He thought everything had gone dark until he focused harder and caught the faint navy outline of a building. It was large and castle-like with its turrets and raised drawbridge. As it moved closer he could see greater details; the flagless poles, the barred windows. It became too large to even see all of it and soon it was jut the pattern of bricks flying straight at him. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut and everything went blue.

One by one, the rest performed the charm as well.

Lily's vision was a small ring; its gem pulsating pink and maroon. The more she focused the faster the pulse went until it was a dizzying swirl of colors that twisted into a picture resembling the Muggle art of spin paint. The swirl grew greater than the ring and a vibrant cherry red heart flashed in front of her before pink filled her sight.

James struggled to keep his eyes open, but they fell shut and _he_ fell into the trance. In a series of quick slides he saw a skull with a snake, a wand bursting into flames, and a rearing lion – its jaws open in a silent roar. The disjointed slideshow repeated, faster this time, slipping without a pause into the next cycle. Just when he thought he was going to be sick, the crazily spinning pictures slowed down and stopped on the lion, glowing green.

Brow furrowed as he watched his mum and dad twitch under the spell's influence, Harry received a stern look from Knoll and grudgingly tapped his head. Silver dripped down across the blackness that came without light, and once the shaking metallic sheen covered his vision an invisible hand inked the black outline of a mighty sword. A flash of light and the drawing was made real. A group of stars he hadn't noticed before flared to life and the faint outline of a man was made by the connected lights. Just as the star-man reached for the sword, it all disappeared and he was left staring into silver.

In his entranced state, Remus regarded the golden bell before him, but couldn't make sense of it. It swung silently back and forth being as unobtrusive as it could before it was replaced by swinging charms. Equally gold, equally silent. The bell reappeared faint and transparent as if a ghost, and overlaid itself upon its partner, the charms, making for a dizzying image that Remus wished would just disappear.

Ron was the last to be-charm himself (mostly because he'd lost his wand somewhere in the mess of his bag). A set of golden eyes immediately blinked back at him. He scrunched up his nose in surprise and the feline orbs were replaced by rapidly passing patterns of stripes and spots and possibly more that he couldn't catch sight of. As if they were moving too fast for themselves, the designs collided into a disastrously jumbled picture that, like a spill of paint, began dripping down and out of sight.

Hermione came to first, her eyes snapping open to the blinding classroom light with such suddenness that tears formed in her eyes. Then, like a set of dominos the rest followed in the order they'd gone – heads snapping up like a displaced wave.

"Whoa," Ron exhaled.

"That was bloody brilliant!" James agreed, thumping Harry on the back.

Hermione, on the other hand, exchanged worried looks with Remus. "You didn't see black, did you..." She made it a statement.

"No," was all he said in a quiet voice, while Sirius, who had been eavesdropping again, launched into a detailed reenactment.

Lily was nose deep in her textbook, realizing as she read that what she'd experienced hadn't been normal. Catching the tail end of Hermione and Remus' conversation, she offered a theory of her own. "Well, this book was copyrighted in '24. They've probably adapted the spell since then."

"But we didn't all see the same thing," Hermione brought up, the gears in her head already turning.

"It's probably user specific," Sirius said, and waved his hand frivolously as if brushing away the conversation. "Let's talk about something more important – like how we're going to set the Slytherin tablecloth on fire."

Sighing, Hermione turned back to her book but the words might as well have not been in front of her for all the reading she was doing. Her mind was going over the possible reasoning for their alien experience. She caught Lavender and Padme talking about how 'scary' their dark visions had been, and it only cemented Hermione's belief that what they'd all experienced hadn't been normal.

"I'll bet a fizzing whizbee you're not plotting fire-starting techniques," Remus said quietly.

She shook her head and managed a faint smile, before her face fell serious again. "I don't know what this means, and that bothers me," she confessed, glancing up into his blue-gray eyes.

"Do you think it might have anything to do with those Tempus Infractus scrolls?" He proposed. "The ones you used to bring us here."

She made a face. "That's the only thing I _can_ think of, actually," she supplied. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she turned slightly in her seat so that she could look properly at her conversation companion. "I wonder if this spell is tied to it somehow."

Remus' lips pursed and she could tell he was rolling it around in his mind. "Perhaps – with the right people, of course – instead of tapping into a person's sense of self, it taps into...something else," he theorized, gesturing with his hand when the words failed him.

Hermione's expression became thoughtful. "'Something else'," she repeated. "What do you mean?"

"A hidden power, some blocked memory, a secondary identity..." he rambled off a few more, using his fingers to tick them off. "Who knows what was represented by what we saw."

"I'll talk to the Order and look in on it," she decided finally, telling him of her plans.

"I'll help," he agreed. "Two minds are better than one – especially in research."

Hermione smiled at the tiny joke and brushed back the hair that had fallen into her face yet again. "Thanks," she told him in gratification. "Who knows...we might actually be the seven warriors from the scrolls."

He grinned handsomely. "You had doubts?"

She laughed and waved her hand behind her without looking. "With this motley crew? We don't exactly fit the warrior genre."

"I'm sure you'll whip us into shape, _Professor_," his compliment was teasing and made a pretty pink blush rise on the apples of her cheeks.

"Speaking of training," she said quickly steering to a new topic. "There'll be a little bit of time afterwards to get a start down at the library if you want to meet up."

He nodded his consent. "Sure, but we should both probably shower first."

She nodded her head laughing. "You don't think you'll be too tired?" she gibed.

With a grin back, he replied with a modest "I'll do what I can".

Sirius watched Hermione's turned back with barely contained frustration. She was laughing at something Remus said and talking in depth with him about something Sirius couldn't follow.

But what he really didn't follow was Hermione's behavior. They'd kissed last night and here she was (right next to him, by the way) flirting with another guy. She didn't seem the promiscuous type, but the way she was acting confused him. He resolved to sort things out with her in Astronomy.

Hermione, on the other hand, completely unaware of Sirius' angry confusion talked with Remus the rest of class, finalizing their plans to meet in the library that evening, and when they were finally out in the hallway and on their way to Transfiguration she was too busy to notice much of anything, as she was checking Ron's essay while she walked.

* * *

They all left lunch together, walking slowly so they could continue chatting before they had to part for their separate classes. To Sirius' surprise, Hermione sought _him_ out and pulled him away from the others.

"We need to talk," she told him as she lead him several paces back from the main group.

"Nothing good ever started with those words," he joked, waiting for an opportunity to ask her about DADA.

She got right down to business. "I wanted to apologize for last night," she said bluntly. "That shouldn't have happened."

"_Excuse me_?" He exclaimed, grabbing her arm. That was the last thing he'd expected out of her mouth.

She shot him a pointed look and twisted her arm free, resuming her walking. He caught back up with her and barely got a word out before she cut him off. "I don't know exactly what you thought was going to happen here. The spell brought you forward to save the world – not to start a relationship with someone."

"I like to multitask," the joke was dead, growled out in an angry voice as Sirius stalked along beside her crisp walk.

Hermione sighed, and a hand went to her aching forehead as she struggled to find the words. "I'm so sorry if I somehow gave you the wrong idea—"

"I know you think I'm attractive," he accused.

"Yes," she admitted easily. "You are very handsome."

"But?"

"But there is more than one reason why this can't happen – why it wouldn't work. The fact that you're from a past before I was born being a key one," she explained in exasperation.

"You have no problem hanging all over Moony," he spat. "Or is he just the exception?"

"What?" Hermione gasped in bewilderment. "_What on Merlin's green earth are you talking about?_"

"Nevermind," he muttered darkly.

"Listen," she ordered. "_No one_ is going to be having relationships with _anyone_. It just simply _isn't_ done!"

Sirius looked down at her in suspicion. "Do you know something I don't, Hermione?"

"Of course," she sniffed rather haughtily in response to his angry demeanor.

"You're being ridiculous, you know that right?"

"There are rules that are meant to be followed—"

"And there are rules that are meant to be broken," he interjected.

Hermione looked at him in muted shock.

"_You want me to just go against all the rules and do whatever I feel like..."_

"_Yes!"_

"_Witches and wizards who travel to the future are surrounded by much different circumstances. When such Time Travelers return to the past, they—"_

"Some are meant to be followed," she repeated in a low voice that brooked no argument.

"Hermione—"

"It would not end well for you, Sirius, and I don't want to be the reason."

"How could it not end well!"

"That's just one of those things I know that you don't."

"That's not good enough."

Hermione grabbed his arm. "Please, Sirius. I don't want this to ruin our friendship."

This hadn't been an easy choice for her and he _had_ to know that. No matter what her friends thought, there were greater things at work here and they required rules be followed. So, she'd never know if she'd be able to care about Sirius having known his future self because she wasn't going to give herself the chance.

They were splitting off to go to their different classes and James was waiting ahead for the pair to catch up. Sirius was silent the entire way, Hermione's fingers digging into his arm.

Just before they reached James he spoke up. "You worry too much..." Though it was half-heartedly spoken, Hermione instantly smiled.

"Thanks for understanding," she whispered, pulling away to catch up with James.

But the truth was – Sirius _didn't_ understand.

"Are you excited for the Hogsmeade trip?" Hermione asked James, hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder as she slowed down.

"Yeah. I want to check out those gloves Ginny mentioned," he rubbed his hands together excitedly, like a little boy on Christmas Eve.

"And we can finally get you lot your own set of uniforms," she reminded him, glancing over at Sirius on her other side.

He was recovering quickly from their 'little talk' and smirked as he said "And what will our little Miss Granger be shopping for?"

"Books, of course!" She laughed and pushed open the Astronomy door.

* * *


	11. X Hogsmeade

Sirius: 22

Remus: 28

Threesome: 4

A/n: Sorry it's been so long. Hope to have another chapter up tonight though.

--

--

"Where was Hermione this morning?" James yawned, still looking abnormally sleepy for eleven in the morning.

"She lets us sleep in on the weekends," Ron spoke up from his lounging position on the couch. "Unless there's Quidditch, of course."

"By the way," Harry cut in. "We've gotta tell her to wake us up earlier this year on game days."

Ron made a face. "You mean wake _you_ up earlier. _I_ actually like to let my eyes stay closed for awhile." To the Marauders he said, "Crazy that one." He jerked his head at Harry. "Says he needs four hours to get into 'game mode'."

"Where _is_ Hermione?" Remus asked, noting the brunette's lack of presence.

"Lily and Gin are turning her into a girl," Harry said blandly, too distracted by the turning pages of his Quidditch magazine to put much inflection in his voice.

"'Turning her into a girl'?" Remus repeated.

Harry nodded, not really listening, and turned the page. "She sent out a distress signal about a quarter of an hour ago."

"What?! A _distress signal_?" Sirius made a face, disbelieving.

"Something about 'save yourself'." He flipped to an article near the back. "I wasn't really listening," he confessed.

Ron took the magazine straight out of his hands and threw it down shut onto the coffee table. "Time to go."

In an uncanny synchronicity, a door slammed upstairs immediately following his words, and thundering footfalls echoed down the stairwell. Hermione bypassed the final four steps with a rushed leap and she was vaulting over the couch before they could get a word out.

"Hide me!" She begged as new footfalls began.

"How did you know she was coming?" A slowly awakening James asked of Ron, looking down blithely at the brunette trying to hide behind him.

"It's like a sixth sense."

"_Hermione..._"

"Keep your psychotic girlfriend away from me with that wand," Hermione hissed, trying to make the sleeves of his jumper spread far enough away from his arm to cover her face.

"We've only just started!" Ginny exclaimed, bounding down into the common room ahead of Lily.

"Just started?" Harry checked the underside of his wrist for his watch face. "You've been up there half of an hour."

"Her hair took ages," Lily defended.

As if on cue, they all looked back on the hiding Hermione. Her still damp hair had been tricked into looking tamer than it was by being confined to two twin French braids. With her wild and distracting curls pulled back, she was revealed to have a rather pretty sort of face; something her bushy hair had made difficult to notice normally.

Of course, the feminine qualities of her face were somewhat overshadowed by the pale-worn jeans and handed down Manchester United jumper she wore.

"Nice clothes," Ron complimented with a pointed look at his sister that made her mouth click shut. "Now, let's go."

Hermione stuck her tongue out triumphantly and squeezed in between Remus and Harry to the front of the group; putting as much distance between herself and the other girls as possible. She wasn't going to let either one of them near her today with their wands still in their possession.

--

--

After handing their passes to an extra surly Snape, who was filling in for Filch, and executing another race between Sirius and Hermione in an attempt for him to win back the chocolate frogs he'd lost, the rosy faces teenagers found themselves in Honeydukes where Hermione was collecting her double prize.

"I'm mad at you," she told him, sucking on a chocolate frog.

"What for?!" He exclaimed, juggling the sweets boxes she was making him carry as part of his bet.

"You made me race you and kick your arse," she explained simply. "And now I'm being forced to eat these frogs..."

"I'll take 'em," James offered with a greedy eye on the twin wrapped packages.

"No way," she shook her head. "I'm under moral obligation to eat every one..."

Sirius face lit up in a childishly gleeful sort of way and you could almost see the comprehension dawning on him.

"You'd think the daughter of dentists wouldn't be allowed a sweet tooth," he drawled and in so doing made Hermione suddenly swallow a painfully large bite of squirming chocolate.

"I'm not. But this is a _magical_ sweet – completely different," she reasoned, perusing the shelves.

Ron rolled his eyes in passing, arms filled with every sort of sugary confection a store like Honeydukes could offer, and Hermione finally took pity on Sirius enough to shrink the boxes of chocolate and stash them in her pocket.

"Let's head to the robe shop," Harry shouted so they could all hear over the din of younger kids screaming for candy. "Before we have to carry Ron out on a hippogriff."

"I'm gonna kick your arse when we get out of here." His threat was made an _eensy_ less threatening by the flakes of pumpkin pasty flying out of his mouth.

--

--

The group headed next to Gladrags and, using the private fund Hogwarts had established for just such odd emergencies, bought Lily and the boys their own set of the school uniform as well as new robes.

That seemed to be the breaking point, however, for after which Ginny took off for the Quidditch store with an eager James dragging a not-so-enthusiastic Lily behind, Hermione immediately sought out the bookstore, and with half of their group – save for Lily – at their respective obsessions, the remaining four split off as well – Harry to show Sirius and Remus the "new and improved Zonko's" and Ron to get a drink with Hannah Abbot.

They were all to meet at the Three Broomsticks in an hour.

--

--

Lily stamped her feet to regain the feeling. Three quarters of an hour had passed since they'd gotten to the store and she had yet to be given the chance to sit down. Just as she was planning for an unfortunate something to fall into her boyfriend's tea and about to _beg_ James to let her go to the bookstore, something odd caught her eye.

A man standing across the street was dressed from head to toe in official looking white. And looking ridiculous in a sea of brightly-clad teenage students.

"Sorry, Lils," James said, taking her hand and steering her down the walk to a bench.

Lily realized her face must have held an embarrassingly vacant expression and her cheeks flushed. The peculiar man in white had at least done one thing – he'd made her forget about the aching in her feet. But now it was back and she sunk onto the wooden seat with a sigh of relief. James draped an arm around her shoulders, the box containing his new Chaser gloves placed carefully beside him.

"You done?" she asked, implying with a dart of her eyes the package next to him.

"Yeah."

He was slouched, with his legs crossed at the ankle and his eyes watching the passers by. Lily followed his example, casting her eyes up and down the street – past the doorway where the man in white had stood, to the joke shop down near the end of the lane.

"It's not quite the same as I remember it," Lily murmured, eyes alighting on a new lamp post. "It looks it, but then I notice something that wasn't there before."

"I know what you mean," James agreed. "There are things I shouldn't know, but I _feel_ like I do."

Lily bobbed her head and buried her chin in the lapels of her corduroy jacket. "It must be our memories catching up with us."

"Do you think it'll be weird when we go back? Knowing our future, I mean."

He was looking at her, she could tell, and very slowly she met his eyes and voiced the concern she'd been harboring since the beginning.

"Do you think we _will_ get back home?"

The arm slung over the bench dropped onto her shoulders and he squeezed her to him in a reassuring way. "Hermione'll find a way."

Lily thought about this; he was right. If anyone could find a way it would be Hermione, and she'd do whatever it took to see them home again – that much Lily was sure on, even only knowing the other girl for two weeks. With a blossoming smile, Lily snuggled closer to her boyfriend, content to spend their last ten minutes with each other, watching the people.

--

--

Hermione was so enthralled with her newly purchased book that she didn't look up as she stepped out into the bright September light and, consequently, collided with another body.

Rubbing her pained bum, Hermione was startled when a hand was thrust just under her nose. She took the slender, and obviously feminine, hand and, snatching her book off the ground as she rose up, allowed the other person to pull her back to her feet.

A middle aged witch looked down her small glasses and smiled disconcertingly at her, looking decidedly serpentine in the eerie way she appeared pleased to have been run so rudely into. Hermione returned it with an uncertain smile of her own.

"Terribly sorry," she murmured, and was about to make a hasty retreat before the woman's hand on her arm held her in place.

The grip was firmly demanding; not at all a match to the smiling face. "My name is Carolyn Eustice – from the Ministry of Magic."

Hermione took in the all-white outfit and nodded to convey her understanding, mouth too dry to speak for a moment. "Can I help you, ma'am?" She offered with strained formality.

The ruby red lips parted, baring the perfect sort of teeth her parents refused to let her magically achieve. "We were not able to find your Headmaster in the castle..."

She trailed off with a saccharine sweetness Hermione believe was meant to bait her into giving something away. What that 'something' was, she had no idea.

"Would you happen to know his whereabouts?"

Hermione didn't.

"I believe he had some business in Belgium," she supplied, schooling her face to look excitedly helpful.

The murky green-brown eyes soaked in the snippet of information gleefully, like it was a jewel of knowledge she'd just coerced out of a seemingly innocent girl. The woman, Carolyn, swept off without so much of a goodbye, leaving Hermione standing alone in the street.

Her hands were trembling as they slipped the book into her pocket and her steps were staggered as she turned her feet towards the Three Broomsticks. Any sight of white hastened her steps and by the time she passed Durvish & Banges she was in a full out run, her thick braids slapping against her back as she ducked her head down into the wind.

Pushing through a group of laughing Ravenclaws, Hermione stumbled – barely seeing with her lowered face – her way into the alleyway beside the bar. Her breathing was heavy, and her spiking adrenaline was accompanies by a heaviness pushing down on her shoulders and trying to force her to her knees.

With shaking, hooked fingers she reached up and clawed at Lily's painstakingly fashioned braids. One of the ties snapped with the ferocity at which she yanked, but the other got tangled in her curls. It was ripped from her braid with desperate hands to the sound of ripping hair.

A high pitched keen fluxed in and out of her voice, whimpering, as she ran her hands wildly and urgently through her locks to separate the woven strands. When her wild hair was in a bushy mess around her face, she ran her uncontrollable hands shaking down her face and slid down the wall to the ground.

The icy stone was soothing as she pressed her cheek against it, one hand bracing herself against the wall and the other clutched the thick material of her jumper – trying to slow the rampant **thudump thumping!** of her heart.

Shaking her hair to fall over her face like a curtain, she brought her head down between her knees and sucked in the stuffy air of the alley.

When the tremors had passed and she was no longer breathing any differently than before, she exhaled slowly and stood up. Any attempt she made to flatten her hair only made it more staticky and unmanageable and so she gave up on the mess, oddly comforted by the feel of rough curls across her cheeks and the warm weight on the back of her neck.

Steeling herself for the bright lights of the open street, she checked to make sure her book hadn't been lost in her panic attack, and brushed off her jeans before rounding the corner and entering the Three Broomsticks.

--

--

Warm, humid air engulfed her like a grandmother enveloping her grandchild in a big bear hug, and her nose was assailed with a variety of pleasing smells; the thick vanilla of the candles on the walls, the earthy smell of autumn, and a rich tang of cinnamon arising from the day's special. She caught sight of Ron's vibrant hair and made her way to their usual table in the back corner. James and Lily were still absent.

Hermione slid in beside Harry and was reaching for his butterbeer when her eyes alighted on the boys' faces.

"What the bloody hell happened?!" she shrieked.

Ron was sporting a split lip, Sirius' jaw was red, and Remus' face was smeared with dirt. Harry looked worse of all, his glasses cracked and the skin around his left eye turned a disgusting purple bruise.

"Harry got into a fight with some Slytherin," Remus replied automatically, then looked shocked that he'd even opened his mouth.

Sirius scowled, "You said you wouldn't tell, Moony..."

"Malfoy attacked you?" Hermione said aghast, fumbling her wand out of her pocket.

"Harry attacked _him_."

"Remus!" Ron shouted.

The lycan covered his mouth, already sinking into his seat. "_Sorry_," he insisted. "It just slipped out, honest."

Hermione gave them all a stern look. "At least one of you has some sense," she quipped, repairing her friend's glasses with an ease brought on by performing it so many times.

"Don't fuss, 'Mione," Ron groaned.

She rapped him sharply on the head with her wand. "Don't you 'mione' me," she reprimanded.

But her hands on his face were gentle and soft, an unconscious effort to keep from paining him more. Lightly alighting her wand tip upon the cut of his lip, she murmured simple healing spell and it was gone.

"Your hands are cold," he complained, pushing her wand away to swig his butterbeer.

"Well, look at you all just _sitting_ here looking terrible like this," she scolded, quickly scourgifying Remus' face across the table.

"We were getting around to it," Harry mumbled.

"You don't look like a basket of roses yourself," Sirius pointed out as she leaned over to reduce the swelling of his face. "What happened to your hair?"

It was a mess, she already knew that, but glancing down she saw grit and grime across her jeans from when she'd sat in the dirty alley. "I was helping Hagrid round up a thestral that got loose," she lied fluidly.

Banishing the violet of Harry's black eye to yellow and then back to the normal flush of his skin. "Now tell me why you engaged in a duel with Malfoy," she demanded before the others could question her.

"It wasn't a duel," Harry replied rather snappily.

Hermione's brow furrowed, "I don't understand..."

"We were walking out of Zonko's when Malfoy and his grunts walked by," Ron explained. "The next thing I knew Harry and Malfoy were rolling on the ground punching the sod out of each other."

"Harry just _tackled_ him," Remus supplied, and this time was rewarded with a resounding hit upside the head from Sirius.

"OW!" Remus' hand immediately went to his head. "That hurt."

"I barely touched you," he countered, twirling his bottle along the table.

"You bloody well punched me in the head," Remus grumbled, wincing as he rubbed the spot of injury.

"Well if you'd stop opening your mouth—"

The bottle in his grip shattered into a thousand shards, littering the table with glittering brown fragments.

"Gods!" Hermione cried. "Sirius!"

His face screwed in discomfort he lifted his hand up for view – blood was beading around the few punctures he'd acquired, brown glass jutting out of his skin.

"Blimey..." Ron was gaping at the shrapnel that had pierced the booth's leather back directly between himself and Remus.

"The glass just gave out..." Sirius was saying.

"You get tired of abusing me so you attack your drink?" Remus was muttering at the same time.

Harry was cleaning up the glass and repairing any tears in the booth, while Hermione diligently worked on Sirius' hand, and with Ron gaping still at the entire thing, Lily and James finally arrived.

"Sorry we're la—what the devil have you done to your hand?" James and Lily both squeezed in on Hermione's side, saving a little space with Lily sort of half-sitting on James. No one was really concerned about seating arrangements at the moment.

"He crushed it with his bare hands!" Ron insisted, gesturing wildly at the pile of glass Harry had constructed.

James face broke out in a fierce grin. "_Wicked!_" He slid Harry's bottle across to 'Hermione's patient'. "Do it again, mate!"

Hermione shot him a disapproving look that turned to one of disbelief as Sirius obligingly picked up the butterbeer. He squeezed it firmly, but to no avail. For a moment he scowled at it as if _willing_ it to shatter.

"The bottle was probably faulty," Lily reasoned, plucking the bottle out of his grasp; much to Hermione's relief.

"The both of you are ridiculous," she grumbled, turning over Sirius' hand for one last ocular check. It was all healed.

"Both?" James looked confused. "Sirius and...?"

"Harry. He got into a fist fight with Malfoy of all things."

Ron banished the glass hill with a flick of his wand. "It was probably pretty entertaining though."

"What did he say to you Harry?" Hermione prompted, turning as best she could in the crowded booth to address him.

He was staring out the window.

"Nothing."

"Did he do something to provoke you—"

"No." He rested his chin in his palm and looked back at her out of the corner of his eye. "He was just walking past and I had this urge...this _need_ to just punch him one right in that sneering face of his."

"You could get detention for that," Lilt exclaimed.

Harry shrugged, body still slouched towards the window. "I think Malfoy's and my rivalry is past 'tattling'."

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. "No," they answered simultaneously.

"Listen, Harry," Hermione started. She placed a hand on his arm. "Malfoy'll do anything to get you expelled. We'll probably lose fifty house points for this."

"It wasn't my fault!" Harry shouted. His emerald eyes were blazing with an angry fire, but Hermione was unrelenting.

"Then whose—"

"I don't know," he snapped, irritably avoiding her honey gaze. Hermione sighed, looking over his form tense with frustration, and decided it would be best to question him another time. That is, if he wasn't expelled for 'assault on another student'.

"Things sure have been weird today..." Lily murmured offhandedly.

Hermione looked up. "What do you mean?"

"A wizard stopped James and I on the way here..." Lily didn't finish the sentence. She waved it away as unimportant. "He looked really funny all dressed in white."

"A man from the ministry?" Harry's attention came rocketing back to the conversation.

Lily blinked in bewilderment and nodded. "Yes, how did you know?"

"Their investigation's team wears white," Harry's bespectacled gaze moved quickly to Ron and then back to Lily.

"I met one of them too," Hermione added quietly. "They're here to evaluate Hogwarts' defenses and root out any possible spies. Apparently they've gotten wind of a leak of information coming from here."

"How come you always know everything?" Ron exclaimed, exasperated at the 'injustice of it all'.

"It was posted on the common room notice board, Ronald." She shook her head wearily and began to subconsciously fiddle with the sleeves of her jumper.

"Hermione?" Lily was peering at her intently with a peculiar expression on her pretty face. "Is something bothering you?"

Hermione smiled quickly and sat on her fidgeting hands. "No, of course not – except for having to nanny you lot all day."

Remus looked at her oddly.

"What did you do to your hair?" Lily pouted. Hermione leaned back and out of reach as Lily moved to touch her curls.

"Thestral chasing," she repeated the lie.

The table rattled slightly and Hermione's lips pursed to see Remus in physical discomfort as if her lie had been a slap in the face. "You weren't helping Hagrid." It was a statement.

Hermione shifted apprehensively under the sudden six stares placed upon her. "I don't like people seeing my face, alright?"

It was almost true.

That disconcerting look was on Remus' face again, and then it switched suddenly to an expression of surprise.

"Things have been a little weird," Hermione finally relented. "I'm gonna go find Dumbledore – make sure there isn't a magical disruption storm coming."

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Hermione," Ron groused. "We were just going to show Remus the new Shrieking Shack."

Smiling kindly at Remus she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to pass."

James and Lily obligingly stood up and climbed out of the booth so Hermione could slide out. "I'll see you all at dinner."

"You mean that this time?" Sirius teased.

Hermione shrugged, laughing. "No rest for the wicked," she called over her shoulder and swept out the door.


	12. XI Taken

Sirius: 22

Remus: 33

Threesome: 4

I'm not going to say anything

New chapter hopefully up by tomorrow

--

--

**One week later...**

"GO AWAY!"

The common room all turned to look at the portrait as it slammed open. Ron came stomping in and banged it angrily shut, much to the indignation of the Fat Lady. "That bloody giraffe keeps following me through the blooming paintings!"

"Still?" Hermione laughed. Ron had acquired himself quite the stubborn admirer the past week.

"Maybe if you're lucky it'll refer you to the rhino on the sixth floor," Harry chuckled.

"Hardy har," Ron spat, flopping down on the couch beside Hermione with such force that she bobbed on her cushion.

"Honestly, Ronald," she began, looking down her nose at him in a very McGonagall-esque way. "It's not like it can do anything to you."

"Hey! You're wearing glasses," he interjected.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "When I read for a while my eyes start to get tired," she explained softly, pushing the thin wire frames higher up on the bridge of her nose as she peered over the book in front of her.

"Forget Ron," Harry advised. "She's been at it all morning."

"You mean all week," the redhead griped. "You are coming to the game, _aren't you?_"

She tucked a brown lock behind her ear, and repressed her sigh to a long exhalation of breath. "I suppose..."

"WHO'S READY TO KICK SOME SLYTHERIN ARSE!?" Sirius bellowed, sliding off the banister with a dramatic flourish. The common room exploded with thunderous applause and loud shouts of 'hell yeah!'.

Hermione didn't even look up, finding her exasperation best showed by a sorry shaking of her bushy head. Her hopes of going unnoticed, however, were dashed when another body jumped onto the couch beside her and threw their arm around her shoulders.

"Hullo, pigeon," Sirius husked, stretching out.

"Hello," she murmured back, still pouring over her Potions textbook when it was snatched out of her hands.

Her cry of indignation was cut short when she looked up to see Remus sitting on the arm of the couch beside her, holding her book just out of reach.

"Remus," she exclaimed. "Please, give me my book back."

"Chapter fourteen?" His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "We're only on five."

"I was cross-referencing something," she rushed out. "For my essay..."

Remus frowned slightly and was about to say something when Sirius cut in. "Enough work!" He exclaimed. "It's QUIDDITCH DAY!" He shouted the last, punching the air with his fist, and the common room cheered once more.

Hermione glared at him.

"Some of us actually care about our grades," she said haughtily. Sirius feigned hurt.

"Maybe I should call you raptor from now on," he told her. "You're tearing me to pieces here."

"Maybe you should call me by my real name," she shot back, turning now to her Charms book, seeing as how her Potions work would have to be put on hold for a while.

"Remus," Sirius commanded, and the smaller boy banished her book with a tap of his wand. Sweeping the rest of her work pile out of her reaching arms, he banished that as well.

"Traitor," she hissed, narrowing her eyes behind her glasses. Remus just smiled.

"See?" Sirius gestured at his friend. "Not even Moony studies on QUIDDITCH DAY!" More cheers.

She groaned and pulled off her glasses. "Stop that."

Sirius grinned at Remus over her head. "She thinks I'm adorable."

Remus looked at him unimpressed. "I'm sure."

"I think she's secretly in love with James," Ron suggested.

Harry made a face at him. "Lily's gonna be pissed."

Hermione dropped her head onto the table. "Kill me now..." she grumbled.

"TIME FOR QUIDDITCH!" James had made his entrance, ensuing an entirely new wave of cheers.

Hermione started banging her head on the table.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Lily asked, coming around to the couch. Hermione let her head fall to the side so she could look at Lily. Well, as best she could through the mound of her wild curls.

"I'm surrounded by idiots."

"Don't I know it," Lily whispered back, crouching down beside Hermione who was now stuck in that position by Sirius's elbow on her lower back as he propped his chin in his hand. "This is what you do."

Hermione perked up.

"James," Lily called sweetly, and her boyfriend looked up from simulating a new Quidditch move to Harry.

"Sirius here was just telling Hermione how he could beat you in Charms any day, and then Remus said you were getting soft..."

James scowled at them both, despite their looks of disbelief. "Oh _really_?"

Lily nodded emphatically batting her lashes over her beautiful jade eyes. "Harry and Ron both bet against you..." she bit her lip, coyly appearing as if she'd just let some secret slip.

"I challenge you to a duel!" James declared, drawing his wand. "All of you – come on!"

Sirius actually looked nervous, drawing back on the couch. Hermione was snatched by Lily and promptly dragged to safety. "Honest, mate, I didn't say—"

With a swish of his wand, James had turned Sirius' long raven locks vibrant pink. He screamed like a girl. "My hair!"

And that's how the couch got blown up, Ron's skin got turned plaid, and the common room ceiling started dripping strawberry jam.

--

--

"GO! GO! GRYFFINDOR! GO! GO! GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione stomped her feet on the stand floor and clapped her hands furiously as the entire Gryffindor section created a thundering uproar. Gryffindor was winning 90-20.

Lily was screaming James' name as he and the other two Chasers whizzed back from a fresh goal. He zoomed overhead, winked, and rushed back into the game. Hermione glanced at the other girl and found a pink in her cheeks that wasn't from the wind.

Remus was standing in between them, his Gryffindor flag dangling over the edge of the rail while he cheered and taunted his friends whenever they flew by. The three spectators, while much too concerned with their studies to participate in such a frivolous and/or barbaric sport, were not above screaming their heads off with mounting excitement as their friends trounced Slytherin.

Ron knocked down a goal attempt and the ball was caught by Ginny. She dodged a Slytherin Chaser, but was forced to toss the quaffle to James as a bludger came straight for her. She downward spiraled and it went screaming off in another direction.

James shot to the center hoop, but was slammed into by one of the beaters who was trying to use his club to knock the Gryffindor right off his broom.

Lily screamed, the Gryffindors booed, and Madame Hooch blew her whistle. A penalty shot was to be awarded to Gryffindor.

The stomping cheer exploded again as the Gryffindor team flew back in formation, leading Slytherin by another ten points.

Hermione, though enjoying the game, had a near heart attack every time her friends did something dangerous. It had been bad enough with just Ginny, Harry, and Ron, but now having to watch five people all at once – she'd have gray hairs by the time she was twenty five.

Sirius came somersaulting over on his broom after a sturdy hit from another beater, and everyone grabbed for their hats and scarves as the wind of his momentum filled the Gryffindor stands. He straightened out just in time to slam a bludger back at his attacker.

"Sirius be careful!" Hermione shouted into the wind.

Grinning from the rush of the game he whipped around above the threesome's heads, making Lily and Hermione hold tight to their robes and Remus take a swing at him.

"Watch this!" He yelled, and shot off into the air.

"Don't do anything stupid!" Lily yelled, but the wind and cheers took her warning away.

They watched him chase down the Slytherin Chasers and swoop around behind the hoops as they passed the quaffle around the third Gryffindor Chaser. Seamus aimed a bludger at them, but the opposing beater knocked it back away. Ron rolled to the left to block the shot and it rebounded back into the Chaser's hands who lobbed it up at the opposite hoop.

There was a rush of red through the wide metal ring and with a resounding **SMACK!** Sirius had batted the quaffle halfway down the pitch. James came whizzing into sight from around one of the towers and caught the ball one-handed. Remus was cheering the Chasers on for another goal, Lily was screaming how much of an idiot Sirius was, and Hermione had turned her gaze to the speck circling high above the pitch.

"GO HARRY!" She shouted as the maroon dot shot downwards with a green smear right on his trail.

He was only inches from the ground when he pulled up and leveled off. Hermione remembered it was called the 'Wonky Faint' or something to that effect. Malfoy wasn't so fortunate; he crashed into the ground with a painful sound and struggled to pull himself off the turf. Hermione couldn't help but cheer all the louder as the Slytherin stand across the way booed maliciously.

Harry was still shooting around the pitch at the speed of light, and Hermione feared suddenly that his broom had been jinxed. Too many awful things had happened to him playing Quidditch that she couldn't stop herself from thinking the worse. She grabbed Lily's hand in front of Remus and felt the redhead squeeze it reassuringly back.

Murmuring curses into her hand, Hermione watched anxiously as her best friend weaved in and out of other racing players, no one seeming to sense any danger in this at all. She must have been breaking Lily's hand by now, but the redhead wasn't making any sign of her discomfort, and Hermione's attention was too riveted on Harry to care.

Just as she was about to grab her wand she caught the tiniest golden flicker. The snitch! "GO HARRY!" She screamed at the top of her lungs as Harry flew straight behind one of the tower tapestries.

She watched, without breathing, the bulge of fabric that was her best friend tumble down to the tower's base. He reappeared out the bottom and fell the last three feet onto the sand pit that ringed the grass. The entire stadium had noticed him by now and everyone waited with hushed whispers as he got to his feet, using the wooden tower for support. He lifted his fist into the air and the stands were cheering before the announcement had even been made.

"HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS! THAT'LL TEACH THOSE GREASY SLYTH—" The microphone being wrestled away by Professor McGonagall was drowned out by the mass of students rushing out onto the field.

Hermione ran straight to the Gryffindor team, bypassing a grinning Sirius, Ginny and Seamus who were reenacting Malfoy's untimely fall, and leapt right into Harry's arms.

"You did it Harry!" She cried, clasping tight to his neck as he spun her around. "You were brilliant!"

"Thanks, Hermione." He set her back on the ground. "I'm glad you came."

She grinned. "You know I'd never miss seeing you play," she insisted.

Making a dramatic showing of reaching behind her ear, his hand reappeared with the snitch fluttering between his fingers. "A snitch!" He said dramatically.

"It's _magic_!" Hermione said with a taunting awe-filled voice.

Giggling softly as he waved the tiny ball around complete with ridiculous airplane noises, she hit him on the arm when Hooch came around to retrieve the game piece. Harry obligingly placed the snitch back in the box and Hermione was scooped up into a big bear hug by Ron.

"Did you see Malfoy's face?" He exploded, putting her back on the grass. "It was bloody brilliant; looked like he ate slugs!"

"You'd know all about that wouldn't you Ron," she teased wryly, tweaking his chin.

He laughed. "I did that in your defense if you recall—"

"I remember," she smirked. "Some white knight you are."

"Did you see his face?" He repeated gleefully.

Hermione shook her head chuckling. "'Bloody brilliant'," she replied.

"WHAT A GREAT QUIDDITCH DAY!"

The crowd around them cheered, whooped, and hollered. Hermione turned around to see Sirius in the midst of all of them, waving his club above his head.

"I told you to stop that!" She yelled over the crowd with a grin on her face.

Sirius just winked at her and cheered all the louder. Hermione had to duck as James took off with Lily on the back of his broom, and she waved in amusement at the redhead clasping nervously to her boyfriend.

"Your turn, Hermione," Harry grinned mischievously mounting his broom beside her.

"No, thank you!" She swore vehemently, darting behind Remus.

"No fun," he complained, circling around her.

"You guys have fun, I'm gonna head back to the common room. There are a few things I want to finish before dinner."

"Alright," Harry relented, and darted off to do a victory lap with the rest of the team, plus Lily.

Remus offered to walk back with her and the two left the stadium together, nodding politely at the two ministry officials standing at the entrance, and taking their time enjoying the scenery as they completed the long trek up to the castle.

--

--

"What took you two so long?" James teased as Hermione and Remus slid into their seats at the table, not seeing Sirius' dark look.

"Hermione wouldn't stop working on her Potion's essay," Remus explained, while Hermione's head lifted into the air haughtily.

"I wanted to finish it," she said.

"Did you see the mess those white-jackets, made?" Lily complained, referring the ministry officials.

They'd taken up inhabitance at the school and it wasn't rare for students to come back to their common rooms and find them searched through. It was more annoying than anything else.

Remus was talking with Lily. "—took me an hour to reorganize my books."

"They went through my make-up of all things—"

Hermione just shook her head and began filling her plate. For once, she hadn't already eaten. She hadn't had the time to, what with the Quidditch game and all the work she'd been doing.

"Feeding India, pigeon?"

She ignored Sirius. "I'm absolutely _ravenous_," she exclaimed, tucking in to her potatoes and gravy.

Everyone else was equally hungry. Nothing like a good ol' Quidditch game to raise your appetite. Some sixth years down at the other end of the table were doing a shouted rendition of 'Weasley is our King', and more than one student throughout the hall was reenacting several key scenes from the game (mostly Malfoy eating grass).

It was almost too perfect to be interrupted.

Her friends were talking about the next Hogsmeade trip and laughing over something at the Ravenclaw table, but Hermione's eyes were fixed on the ministry officials just entering the Great Hall. There were five.

She turned back to her plate, heart thundering in her chest. The napkin slipped out of her hand and landed atop her food, but no one seemed to notice. The hall was filled with laughter and high spirits. Even the teachers' table was emitting a cheery buzz of conversation. No one was watching her at all.

"Harry..." she whispered, eyes locked on her goblet of untouched pumpkin juice. "Harry!" she said louder this time.

Still laughing at some joke, his eyes weren't looking at her when he said, "Yeah, Hermione?"

Her fingers curled into the cloth of her skirt. "Harry I need you to listen to me."

He looked at her in surprise. "Under my bed there's a trapdoor. Open it and you'll find a small white box – it contains everything I've been working on for the Order."

They were all looking at her now. "Hermione, wha-"

"You can't let them find it," she hissed urgently.

"Who's 'they'?" Harry leaned towards her, his face line with concern. "Hermione, what are you talking about?"

She watched the moving pictures in the metallic reflection of her glass and shook her head. There wasn't time. Finally meeting his eyes she stared at him hard. "Whatever happens," she whispered quickly. "**Don't** do anything stupid."

"Wha-?"

The disarming spell hit her so hard she went rocketing into Remus, upsetting everything on the table. Harry was on his feet shouting, but Hermione's head was reeling too much to make out the words. Rough hands grabbed her under the arms and yanked her off the bench. She hit the cold floor hard and was yanked back up onto her feet.

The entire hall was in an uproar, the teachers were running down the stairs and Dumbledore was on his feet.

A man in white was rummaging through her pockets, pulling out all the loose baubles and throwing them carelessly to the floor. He found what he was looking for, her wand, and pocketed it.

She managed a look over her shoulder before she was cuffed roughly over the head by one of her restrainers. Snape had been holding Ron and Harry back; they were shouting her name and trying to get past their Professor, but to no avail.

Two of the five ministry workers had formed a barricade between the teachers and Hermione, and she was surprised to hear her Headmaster's voice raised in anger.

"—have no right to treat my student—"

Everything was happening too fast. While their colleagues staved off her professors and any chance of help, the two men that held her dragged her towards the door, while the man who had confiscated her wand lead the way. She didn't struggle.

"Hermione Granger, by order of the Minister of Magic, you are under arrest."


	13. XII The White Box

Sirius: 24

Remus: 37

Threesome: 4

A/N: I'd just like to say I had this done last night, but my computer thought it'd be funny to just keep randomly shutting down.

--

--

**Dumbledore's Office**

"What the hell is going on!?"

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley – please sit down," Dumbledore's voice was strained to the point of anger. His usually calm demeanor was gone, and the twinkle in his eyes was long erased. None of the three sat down.

"They can't just take her—"

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid they can. Fudge knew it would only make the situation between the Ministry and Hogwarts worse, but he was able to and he did so."

"She's not in..._Azkaban_, is she?" Harry's voice dropped, remembering Sirius' accounts of the Dementor guarded prison.

"No, no," Dumbledore shook his head. "She will be taken to a holding cell in the Ministry of Magic building until her trial."

"Trial?" Ron looked sickly pale and his fingers clutching the chair back were chalk white.

Dumbledore sat down in his seat; an agedness that people never saw making his movements slow and stiff. He nodded his head. "Tomorrow."

Harry exploded. "Tomorrow?! That's too soon! How could we possibly come up with a defense in that amount of time?"

Dumbledore was looking at his folded hands as if they held all the answers; the universe's secrets hidden in each wrinkle. "We can't," he answered solemnly. "That is the point."

He closed his eyes as his student screamed in frustration. He heard splintering wood and the falling of heavy objects, before he opened them again.

"It's not FAIR!" Harry shouted. The remains of Dumbledore's chair lay in a heap beneath the pile of books that had been knocked from one of the room's numerous bookshelves. Harry was storming all over the room in a rage, tearing the office apart in painful frustration, and Dumbledore did nothing, letting the younger man vent the same emotions he felt.

"Miss Granger knew this possibility when she began—" he started.

"No!" Ron shouted. "She wasn't like that. She was smart and good. Hermione would have never done any of these things until _you_ asked her to!"

Dumbledore looked at the boy, his hands still gripping painfully to the chair in which he refused to sit and tears of anger and frustration hovering at the corners of his eyes, then lowered his gaze, unable to look his student in the eye.

"SHE TRUSTED YOU!" Ron yelled until his throat was raw and his chair knocked out of the way. He slammed his hands on Dumbledore's desk and did what no other student had done before. He leaned right over the old wizard, with the tears coming down his face, and screamed at him. "She believed in you – she would have done anything for you. AND YOU BETRAYED HER!"

In the following silence, Dumbledore stared down through his half-moon spectacles at his hands. They gave him no answers. Just the hands of an old, old man.

"I know," was all he could say.

"No," Ron choked. Shaking his head desperately he stumbled away from the desk as if it had suddenly grown fangs. "Don't you _dare_ say that now."

Dumbledore passed a hand over his face and tried to unstick his tongue long enough to answer. He took a slow breath to keep it from shaking. "The risk was always there...but Hermione was so gifted; I was thinking only of how much good could be done. I never thought—"

"SHUT UP!" Harry's hands were balled in fists and he was looking at his headmaster as if he were something alien and disgusting. He'd never hated his professor as much as he did now. And it was frightening. "Shut up, shut up!"

Dumbledore fell into silence.

"This is all your fault!" Harry was crying now too, but he didn't care. He was too lost and angry to care.

Dumbledore took all their accusations without a word. They were entirely true. Hermione had trusted him, and he had missed the smaller picture in hoping for the large. The war had blinded him, and he had lost sight of his own morals and beliefs. He let them yell because he was too angry at himself to find a reason for them to not.

"Did Hermione do or say anything that might have been a clue she knew this was coming?"

It was the first time Dumbledore had used her name.

This in itself seemed to take the fight out of the two boys, and their anger visibly deflated leaving them painfully defeated and disheartened.

"She'd been doing a lot of work this past week," Ron offered. "But that's nothing out of the ordinary."

"That morning we found her on the couch," Harry said hoarsely. "She was shouting about someone 'coming'."

Ron shook his head angrily. "I thought she was just having a nightmare."

"Hogsmeade." Harry was leaning against the fireplace, the dancing flames reflecting in the curve of his glasses. "She was acting odd that day," he said with a popping from the fire.

"That was the day they came," Dumbledore recounted aloud. His heart felt heavy and his forehead fell against his steepled fingers. "_She knew_."

Plaster cracked as Ron punched the wall. "Why didn't she say anything?" he hissed in vexation.

"She didn't want us involved," Harry growled, before Dumbledore could even formulate a plausible reason. "_Damnit, Hermione_." He hit the mantel with enough force to make it shake.

"Harry!" Ron's voice was suddenly frantic. "Harry! The box!"

Harry's mouth went dry.

"Box?" Dumbledore got to his feet.

"Before they took her," Ron was talking too fast. "She said something about a box under her bed. Said it was everything she was working on for the Order."

"We have to go get it!" Harry exclaimed.

Dumbledore nodded. "You must hurry. Retrieve it before the Ministry finds it."

Ron was already out the door. Harry stopped half-way onto the staircase with his hand on the frame. He looked back at his Headmaster and his eyes were cold. "If Hermione goes to Azkaban, sir...I'll never forgive you."

The door slammed shut behind him and Dumbledore sank back down into his chair. He whistled for Fawkes and the phoenix flew off his perch and alighted beside the wizard, nuzzling his beak against his face as he sensed his master's disheartenment. Stroking the silky feathers fondly, Dumbledore could not bring himself to smile at his avian friend.

"Gather the Order," he instructed, and Fawkes nipped at his ear to show his understanding. With a soft screech he took to the air and soared out the window and out of sight.

--

--

Two hours later, the Order had assembled at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the story had been told, and Molly Weasley was in tears.

"She's only a child, Albus!" She sobbed, blowing her nose in an already tear-soaked handkerchief that had seen far better days. "They're probably torturing her, or worse!"

"Now, now, Molly," Her husband was saying. "No one's torturing anyone. She hasn't done anything that can be proven yet, and even if she had, nothing she's done would warrant such treatment."

Arthur's words calmed the hysterical woman and Dumbledore thought it best not to correct him.

"What's the plan?" Tonks broke in. She was anxiously hopping from one foot to the other and she was unconsciously switching the shades of blue in her hair. "There _is_ a plan right?"

"I've got one of my men in with her right now," Shacklebolt said in his deep voice. "He'll keep anything bad from happening until the trial tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, tomorrow..." Molly collapsed into one of the many chairs shoved around the dining table. "Can't we have more time?"

Moody banged his wooden leg against the floor and hobbled about the table in a disjointed form of pacing. "That lily-livered coward," he barked, magical eye rolling. "He's going to use the lass as an example."

"Poor Hermione," Tonks whispered.

"I told you, Albus," Molly sniffed, from the table behind him. He turned to face her. "I told you she was just a child – she shouldn't have gotten involved!"

Dumbledore turned to Moody. "Alastor, can you find out how much the Ministry knows?"

"Warrant so," he grumbled and disappeared with a **POP!**

"Mundungus, you go too." The lump of rags at the table stirred to life, and Mundungus Fletcher lifted a bleary head in recognition before he too disapparated.

Molly was still sniffling loudly into her wadded kerchief, and her husband had left her alone, thinking it best to pull the conversation as far away from her as possible. Arthur motioned the rest of the Order to follow him into the adjoining room. He blocked off his wife's loud sobs with a soft closing of the door.

"Albus, Molly is right. We don't have enough time," Arthur said in a low voice, as if his spouse could still hear him through the heavy wood door.

"Emmeline and Hestia have already tried to extend the trial date, but the Wizengamot has refused to see them," Dumbledore informed them.

"But you're Chief Warlock, aintcha?" Tonks piped up.

Dumbledore shook his head. "The auror guard that took Miss Granger this evening passed on a note from the Minister. My position has my suspended until the completion of her trial."

"Bullocks," Elphias Doge cursed. "Fudge really wants this done, doesn't he?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "It does not bode well for Miss Granger."

"But we're gonna get her out, right?" Tonks' bright accent was hesitant. "Dumbledore?"

"We'll do all we can, Nymphadora." The situation was too grave for her to complain over the use of her first name.

"How are the students handling this?" Bill asked. He'd come in from Gringotts when he'd heard Hermione was the subject of the unscheduled meeting.

"They're all understandably confused," Dumbledore said. "I'll have to make an announcement this evening. Severus and Minerva are keeping things in order until my return."

"And her mates?" Tonks pressed. "Harry and the others?"

Dumbledore was without an answer.

--

--

"Harry!" Lily cried as the portrait slammed open.

The Marauders converged on them, but Harry pushed them all out of his way, running to the door hidden beneath the girl's dormitory staircase. "Polaris!" The door cracked open and he shoved it back, Ron on the others hot on his heels.

"Help me move the bed!" He shouted, and James instantly took a spot on the opposite side of Hermione's queen tapestry bed.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" The look-a-likes called simultaneously.

The bed levitated high enough into the air that the posts' decorative tops grazed the vaulted ceiling. Ron was on his belly, crawling underneath the gauzy bed skirt, and kicking up a fine layer of dust. It looked as if it hadn't been disturbed in months and Ron feared that there wasn't a trapdoor after all. He slid his hands all across the floorboards searching for a crack or a bump, or any sign of the secret compartment.

"Harry, I can't find it," he coughed through the dust.

There was the sound of wood on wood and when he glanced around, he found the furniture of Hermione's room to be dancing across the floor. Lily and Remus were directing them all to the far corner, giving James and Harry enough room to set the bed down against the far wall.

Ron sat up and used the better lighting to scan the floor for the trapdoor. Harry dropped down beside him, and copied his earlier actions by running his hands over the rectangle of space Hermione's bed had covered.

Nothing.

"_God damnit_!" Harry cursed slamming his fists against the floor.

There was an odd **thunk!**

No one breathed.

Sirius stamped his foot. **Thud.** He moved it closer to Harry and slammed it down again. **Thud.** Harry drew back on his heels and the long-haired Marauder slammed his shoe down hard.

**Thunk!**

"_Bombarda_!" Remus shouted.

The boards beside Harry exploded in a spray of splinters that made Sirius shield his face. Ron was immediately reaching into the hole and with a twist of his arm he punched upwards and a square section of floor jumped out of place in front of Harry, who dug it out with his fingers and flung it back on its hinges.

Nestled in a perfectly carved square hole, was a spotless white cube no longer than a thumb on each side.

"Bloody hell," James whispered. "It's really here."

Harry was still holding it in his hand when Ron reached out to touch the small cube. The second they were both in contact with it, it flickered white and the top of it disappeared. From within the small container an unbelievable whirlwind exploded outwards, and when it was finished the cube closed again.

Hermione's room was filled with stacks upon stacks of parchments, bookshelves filled to the brim with ancient texts, a giant cedar chest, rare-looking items, boxes loaded with corked potions, and a dangerous assortment of muggle weaponry.

They all stared around the transformed room in disbelief and the cube tumbled from Harry's shocked fingers.

"Gods, Hermione," he whispered. "_What were you involved in?"_


	14. XIII Sentenced

Sirius: 24

Remus: 44

Threesome: 4

(Sirius is getting owned in the polls)

A/N: The next chapter will be back with the rest of the group at Hogwarts, then the one after will be back with Hermione. I'll try and get 'em up as soon as possible, though my birthday party is Friday and there's a dance Saturday night, so...I'll do my best. You might actual have to wait a few days – I think I spoil you all too much, hee.

Enjoy!

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Hermione was already awake and sitting up on her cot when the auror came to retrieve her. She looked up from the blank spot on the wall upon which she had been devoutly staring as the gears grinded magically in the lock with a high-pitched screech of disuse. They'd kept her in the farthest dungeon cell of the Ministry building.

The man who entered was wearing plain black robes and looked particularly uncomfortable being there. "Come on, Miss. Your trial is starting."

Hermione nodded. She hadn't eaten since they'd taken her from the Great Hall and her stomach rumbled when she stood. She hadn't slept well, either, and her short bouts of sleep had been fitful at best.

The man stepped aside to let her pass, keeping his wand aimed at her chest. She stepped out of the barely lit cell to an even drearier hall; stone walls with far-interspersed torches. Two more aurors blocked her path as her retriever closed the cell door and moved to walk behind her. The two guards stepped against the wall and let them pass. All of this was done in silence.

When Hermione finally spoke it made the man jump and the wand tip he'd pressed between her shoulder blades dig a little harder.

"This seems an awful lot for a seventeen year old girl." Was what she said in a raspy voice brought on by lack of use and too little water.

"I don't give the orders, miss," the man said, and it was with a great deal more politeness than she'd expected. "They're saying you're dangerous."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. She'd been called many things in her lifetime, and most were unkind, but never had she been labeled as 'dangerous'.

"Just surprised is all, sir," she replied. "You're just doing your job. I can find no fault with that."

It was hard. So hard to walk a straight line. So hard not to cry. But if she could just keep a civil conversation, then things wouldn't seem so bad. She kept telling herself this over and over, hoping the repetition would make it true, and so she missed the startled faltering of footsteps behind her.

"You sound so calm, Miss Granger." He guided her down the next hall and she moved slightly to dodge an overhanging cobweb.

Hermione shrugged, uncaring. "Ranting and raving won't help me get released."

They were approaching a large wooden door with a heavy bronze knocker. It was the only door in the long empty hall.

"So you're innocent then?" He asked, grabbing a hold of the metal ring, and letting it fall back against the wood with a resounding **whump!**

Hermione stepped back as the door was pushed open from the inside.

"No," she whispered when the grating of wood on stone was too loud for him to hear her. "I'm not."

Hands grabbed her upper arms in an all too familiar fashion and she was dragged away from the polite man and into a large stone room. The sudden onset of a multitude of torches was like a camera bulb going off in front of her face and her eyes instantly watered. Blinking away the reflexive tears, the temporarily blinded Hermione allowed her handlers to drag her into what she assumed was the middle of the room and shove her down into a chair.

Something jabbed painfully into her Adam's apple and she sat docilely at wandpoint as they locked her into her seat, even going so far as to lift her arms complacently onto the chair's armrests for them to lock her wrists in with thick metal bands.

Still blinking rapidly, she heard and felt them, rather than saw them, check her restraints once, twice, and then once more before the pressure on her throat disappeared and two sets of footsteps echoed away from her. The man hadn't been exaggerating when he said they thought her to be 'dangerous'.

She could see properly now, see the raised levels of seating along the three walls in her sight range and most likely the fourth behind her as well. Wizards and witches filled each seat, certain details of their faces escaping in the shadows of the levels farther up. They were whispering, all whispering, in a hushed rising wave of unintelligible conversation that dripped secrets and reeked of a prideful superiority.

Hermione felt insignificantly small, and she didn't realize that she was adapting to fit the part – trying to curl in on herself – until she felt the strain on her ankles and forearms from her forgotten bonds. She forced herself to look away from the imposing witches and wizards with their buzzing murmurs, and changed her focus to the high podium rising up like an Egyptian obelisk before her.

Fudge himself was presiding.

He disgusted her. Like a worm he'd entrenched himself as Minister, feeding off Dumbledore's advice until his pudgy body was so bloated with stolen wisdom and false confidence that he slinked away from his teacher and burrowed deeper and blindly into the filth of the earth.

The ground would shake and the tremors of the world would vibrate around him as he burrowed, always burrowing. But he was too bloated, too far out on his own to feel them. Ignored and unfelt, the problems disappeared, not only from him, but the other worms lured in by the weight of his promises and the heaviness of his stolen morality. It's been years now, and if he finally realized how far into the earth he's dug it would not matter. He is a worm...and worms are always burrowing.

Hermione lifted her chin defiantly and hardened her features. She was not the worm, and never would she abject herself before it. She was the griffin, proud and brave, with goodly attributions that filled the worm tunnels, in their filth and their dirt, with the cleansing flood of rain.

This man, whose cowardice outstripped that of Pettigrew himself – _he_ was insignificant. _He_ was small.

The tower he'd hidden himself upon was no taller than a blade of grass in Hermione's eyes. His dais was only a soapbox; his pyramid a grain of sand.

The worm was weak. _She_ was strong.

All she had to do was stare up into that pudgy, rouge-tinted face, with its beady eyes hidden beneath bushy caterpillar brows, and the whispering, haunting faces in the torchlight melted away.

The worm had served a purpose after all.

"Good morning, Minister," she said politely, but loud enough to be heard. The courtroom was instantly silenced. "Or is it afternoon already? I've lost track of the time."

Fudge's fingers curled around the edge of his high box seat and he leaned forward and nearly out of his seat to look down at her, rounded face framed in childish surprise. Hermione's chin rose a fraction of an inch higher. Worms were stupid. Her politeness and civil tone must have seemed a great deal odd to the wizard, but he seemed to feel rude not answering, because he did reply.

"Still morning, Miss Granger," he said, wavering between judicial curtness and general politeness. "A quarter past nine."

"Is the sun out today?" She asked, as if they'd just sat down to a warm cup of tea.

He was slow in answering. "No," he said finally. "There is no sun."

"Good," she declared immediately. "It would be dreadful if it were. One would think the weather ought to reflect one's situation, would you not?"

Fudge was looking around as if to ask if such conversations were normal occurrences. The faces she could see in a quick glance were surprised as well. Honestly, all the death eaters' wailing and moaning and threatening to hex your legs off wasn't doing them a knut worth of good. Personally, Hermione didn't see the point.

"I suppose..." He began. Hermione interrupted.

"I mean, I don't think I could rightly wish someone a pleasant day, all things considered," she went on explaining. "So, I'm rather _glad_ there's no sun."

Fudge cleared his throat and smiled uneasily with a few glances to each side to see if he was allowed to do so. "Miss Granger." She looked up at him with an expectant expression that held a subtle trace of...was it _impatience_? He wasn't sure and he cleared his throat again. "Perhaps we'd best get started with the hearing."

She nodded compliantly. "Of course, sir."

There was a rustling of papers as Fudge leaned back into his seat and after he unrolled a crisp new parchment it was obvious his words were being read off of it. "After an extensive investigation, you, Miss Granger, were found to be guilty of a lengthy list of crimes, the most heinous of which being the use of dark magic to alter the present time. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

"Excuse my ignorance, Minister," she said in a tone that belied her apparent humbleness. "But isn't the point of this hearing to decide whether or not I committed these crimes?"

The wizards and witches around her tittered, and Fudge joined in with his own chuckles after a cautious moment. "My dear, I don't know how things work in your muggle world, but here trials are for the defendant to _defend_ themselves."

He laughed at his own joke, and Hermione's mouth had gone dry for a half-second or so, before the loathing she had for the man in charge of her fate rose above her sudden anxiety. "So it's to be guilty until proven innocent?" She deadpanned.

Fudge's hitching laughter died.

"Minister, if I might have the floor a moment?"

Hermione's eyes swept over the raised levels of seats on her right and they alighted on a standing figure she hadn't noticed when she'd first entered. _It was Dumbledore_. What was he doing here? She hadn't thought he'd be allowed to sit in on the trial because of his personal relationship with the defendant.

Fudge looked clearly against allowing such a thing, but the other witches and wizards of the Wizengamot were all looking at the Chief Warlock, waiting patiently with his hands tucked into his sleeves for the Minister's permission.

"Albus." Fudge said in way of allowance.

"Miss Granger is clearly unaware of the rules and structure of wizarding court. If I might act as her _Iuris_?"

Hermione's brow furrowed at her Headmaster. "_Iuris_?" What was he doing?

"Lawyer," the aged wizard answered patiently.

She instantly and instinctively shook her head. "No. I'm perfectly capable of representing myself. Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore's expression bore no outwards sign of his emotion as he reclaimed his seat, but his eyes were solemn beneath their frames of golden wire. Fudge looked absolutely pleased with himself, but his thin lipped smile immediately disappeared at the cold look on Hermione's face. She'd found another use for her training mask.

"Let us continue," she suggested curtly, the pleasantness of the trial's beginning evaporating.

Fudge's eyes widened imperceptibly and he nodded, unaware that the young girl was slowly taking control of this trial. "I'm going to ask you a few questions."

Hermione nodded.

Those beady eyes darted over another parchment and after a moment he folded his hands across the podium and leaned forward a bit. "Miss Granger, in regards to the charge of 'manipulation of time', were you acting alone?"

"Yes."

He frowned at her automatic answer. "Was there anyone, anyone at all, who aided you?"

He was trying to burrow his way into _her_ now, dig inside of her like a parasite and swallow up the information inside her. She was not some death eater, who would sell his peers for a chance at freedom. She was a free Gryffindor and she had no names to give him.

Curbing her tongue as best she could, she gave her answer. "You seem to be under the false pretense that I am of the same moral level as the likes of death eaters, sir," she forced the title at the end, and it burned her tongue.

The sinister smile that warped his red face made Hermione instantly recount her words, wondering what she had said. "To the contrary Miss Granger. Of the charges listed, 'death eater' is among them."

Hermione choked on her very breath. Dumbledore was instantly on his feet. "There is no proof which you could have that would—"

"Mr. Dumbledore!" Fudge interrupted in a nasally boom. "Unless you wish to take the witness stand, _please_...return to your seat."

Dumbledore moved resolutely towards the stairs, when Hermione's shout brought the entire house of cards tumbling down.

"No!"

The entire Wizengamot looked at her in shock. She couldn't let Dumbledore take the stand, she just _couldn't_. The whole reason she'd agreed to help him, was because _he_ couldn't afford to be persecuted; to be found out. He was the icon of good for the wizarding world, and if he went to prison then Voldemort would surely win. Hermione **would not** put him in a position for his secrets to be found out.

"You have no say, Miss—"

"Excuse me, sir," she insisted, lifting her voice – forcing it to be heard. "But I believe that Professor Dumbledore's judgment is not without bias. I do not deem that he is thinking clearly on the case due to our personal acquaintance."

Dumbledore was shaking his head furiously at her. "Hermione—"

"I would like to ask for his removal from the courtroom," she said quickly. There was no sound. She would not look at her Headmaster, preferring to keep her eyes on the man she did _not_ care about, sitting yards above her.

There had been something akin to infantile glee on Fudge's face as the words had poured automatically from her mouth, but now his face held a condescending sympathy as if she'd just signed her own death warrant. Hermione dug her fingernails into the wooden arms of her chair and she ground her teeth to keep from saying anything rash.

The source of her infuriation nodded and with a gesture of his hand, the two auror guards that had locked her into the chair moved to escort Dumbledore out of the room. There was nothing he could do.

Straightening his robes, Dumbledore refused the men's arms and showed himself slowly out, the aurors trailing uncertainly behind him, as if they weren't sure they could return to their posts without ensuring the wizard indeed left. When the doors closed shut behind him, Fudge turned back to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, you have been seen frequently in the company of one Severus Snape – a known death eater."

'Former' had been on the tip of her tongue and it had come so instinctively in defense of her professor that she almost hadn't caught it in time. She swallowed the tiny piece of information known only to Order members and merely said instead; "He is my professor, sir."

"One that common knowledge says you 'despise'?" He seemed amused by something.

Hermione moved unconsciously to press her legs together until she remembered they were locked fast against the chair's supports. "A good friend told me he was worth the effort, sir." She thought of Lily and her resolve wavered as the faces of Harry and Ron came unbidden to her mind's eyes. Sniffing quickly she sat up straight in her chair and turned on Fudge. "It is unlikely that I will be able to dissuade you of the age old 'guilty by association' adage, though – as you can see," she nodded her head downwards. "I bear no dark mark."

The flesh of her bared forearm was clear and unstained.

"Shall we continue?" Hermione was back in control.

At least that's what she thought.

"Names," Fudge demanded. "I need the names of your accomplices."

"I can't give you that which there are none of," Hermione replied, growing terse.

"_Names!_" He shouted, and his pudgy fists banged against the wooden tower with such force she could have sworn it rattled.

Hermione's hands curled into fists, pressing her forearm up into the metal band clamped around it. The sharp edge cut painfully into her skin, but Hermione was beyond caring.

"I don't know who has come to you claiming this nonsense you keep spouting, but they are lying! The people I know will do anything they can to keep me out of Azkaban. I know what I have done and I will accept my punishment."

"You are a very bright witch, Miss Granger. I find it hard to believe you could commit such heinous crimes with such a strong moral responsibility as you have just spoken of," he sneered. She watched his pencil lips disappear into the rolls of his jowls with disgust. "It is a shame that you have drifted off the path like so many others."

It's a shame Dumbledore didn't become Minister when he had the chance. Any trace of civility Hermione had once held was now gone as she said "I have only myself to blame, sir". Instead, it was a mockery of cordiality with hardly a trace of etiquette. She strained almost unnoticeably against her bonds, if only for the sake of doing _something_ in defiance of him; that worm upon his sandcastle.

The metal bands held strong.

"Then I have no choice."

Hermione's breath died on her lips.

"Miss Granger, under the charges of: illegal usage of dark magic, alteration of the time-space continuum, illegal use of an unregistered Time Turner, the brainwashing and coercion of six Hogwarts students, suspected allegiance with Voldemort's forces, and the endangerment of human lives this court hereby sentences you to a lifetime's imprisonment in Azkaban prison."

The Wizengamot was in an uproar, as Fudge signaled for the two guards one last time. The stands were clamoring for the vote they'd been denied, Fudge was signing his name to the bottom of her sentence parchment, and Hermione was struggling to find the words.

"You never gave me the chance to defend myself!" she had to shout to be heard over the hundred other voices. "This isn't right, Fudge!"

"You brought this upon yourself, Miss Granger," he answered with false solemnity.

The guards flanked her chair and one even grabbed her arm as she strained futilely against the chains. The ground was trembling beneath her and her teeth were rattling in her jaw. There was a loud pounding at the door that was all but ignored as Fudge sent the signed parchment away.

"Goodbye, Miss Granger." He mocked her with his civility, when she snarled at him like a cornered beast.

"You snake!" She screamed over the thundering pounds against the door. "Worm!"

He didn't even stand up as the floor disappeared out from under her, and she screamed as she fell.

--

--

"Welcome to your new home," the muscled auror barked as he shoved her at the bars.

They shimmered slightly and flashed incorporeal long enough for Hermione's propelled body to pass through. She hit the wall with a sickening **smack!** and pressed her body against it to keep from crumpling to the floor. Her head was reeling from the hit and the instant it subsided long enough for her to notice the stench, she stumbled to the corner and retched violently.

It reeked of defecation, mold, vomit, and rotten food. The man laughed at her.

When her stomach was purged and all that was left was dry heaves, she choked them back and wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve.

"The Dementors are going to have a fun time with a pretty little thing like you."

The auror was still standing outside her cell. He wouldn't be so bold if he hadn't had his wand. Hermione scowled at him from behind her hair and stalked towards the bars. She reached out to find the metal poles solid once more and her slender fingers curled around them with knuckle popping force.

"_Please_, go away," she ground out through teeth so angry they refused to unclench.

He clicked his tongue at her in a lewd fashion and strolled away and out of sight. As soon as he was gone, like moths to the flame, the prisoners in the cells around her appeared from the shadows. Their white faces so smeared with grime and their own feces that they were barely distinguishable from the darkness until they pressed themselves to the gleaming metallic bars.

The entire prison was filled with the screams of the insane and demented.

"Who've we got here?" A lanky man in the cell kitty corner to hers hissed. The hair that clung to his face by some unknown adhesive was knotted nearly down to his waist and may have once been an attractive burgundy. Now, like the rest of him, it was brown filth.

"Shiny," He giggled at his own joke and rubbed his cheek along the bars. "Young and fresh."

Hermione shrunk away from the bars, keeping a faint contact with it by her fingertips – almost afraid that if she let go completely she'd be swallowed into shadow.

"Duckie, duckie," came a thick British accent right across from her. "Youngest death eater yet..."

She looked up into a face ten years older than hers, betraying a voice as young as her age. His once blonde hair had waved down almost to his shoulders and the thick mane hinted that, had it been given a proper washing, it would have been curly. She took a step closer to decipher the color of his eyes, but the weak torchlight made that impossible and the glittering black orbs matched those of every head peering out between two bars.

"I'm Hermione Granger." She was proud to hear her voice come out steady.

"Bitch!" A shrill voice shrieked from her right. "Mudblood! Whore!"

This was followed by a screeching string of indiscernible curses and whooping cries that made Hermione shrink back in fear.

"Potter's spy, Potter's spy!" Wailed the woman.

Like a greedy child, the prisoners surged against their bars reaching and clawing at Hermione as if they could grab a hold of her and pull her back into the light. This only frightened Hermione more and her body began to shake.

The stench was nearly overwhelming her again, and though there was nothing left to regurgitate, she tasted bile on the back of her tongue and had to fight the urge to dry heave. The stone walls at her back were threatening to close in around her and her panicked anxiety was like a buoy bobbing in the middle of her throat. It hurt to swallow.

She wanted to go back to the bars; away from the shadowed walls and their slime and mold, away from the pitch black corners where more than her recent vomit festered with flies and maggots. The dividing hall was nearly as dark as the cell itself, but it was that faint flickering of torchlight visible in the top left corner of her barred wall that drew her, that gave her a sense of hope.

Hope? Since when had something as meager as a torch become a beacon of hope to her? Had she already begun to despair? She looked as far down the hall as she could without moving closer to the flailing arms, and noted pools of light only every five or so cells. Imagining spending her sentence in the complete darkness between lights was inconceivable to her, and she was grateful for her tiny torch, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

"Shut yor gob, Blabber," the British blonde growled and the screams beside her died to pitiful whimpers and Hermione heard the diminished scuffling from the next cell over as the woman scurried back into the farthest corner.

"Blabber?" She asked, cautiously moving back into better sight of the boy across from her. The light was heavenly.

"Talks too much," He grinned at her, and his rows of broken teeth flashed into a twisted saffron leer that caused the veins in his neck to stand out.

The buoy bobbed and Hermione gasped. "You're _mad_."

The lanky man burst into high pitched giggles that hitched with each breath and rebounded off the walls with echoing clarity, filling the corridor with a cacophony of deranged screaming laughter. "_We're all mad here_."

Without warning, there rose an unbearable wailing, matched by each prisoner in every cell. Screaming and wailing, the monsters scurried back into the shadows leaving a quaking Hermione standing alone at the bars. And then there was such a sudden silence her eyes went wide as saucers and a shiver ran down her back. Far to her left, there was the sound of a door opening and closing, and, like a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head, her blood ran cold.

The Dementors had begun their rounds.


	15. XIV Star of Power

**POLLS CLOSED** 'CUZ SIRIUS WAS GETTING BEAT DOWN IN AN EMBARASSING SORT OF WAY.

Sirius: 26

**Remus: 60**

Threesome: 5

Not saying this is how it's going to turn out 'cuz that's not a surprise, but thank you all for your input and your reasons that ranged from legitimate to giggly-fun.

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_New Poll:_ I want to know how many of you think Hermione is going to get out, and how many think she'll go mad, released or not. Would love your feedback.

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A/N: Okay, so it took one more day than expected but it IS rather long and fun-filled. Hoping to have the next one up by late tomorrow night when I'm done with class, and that will be back with Hermione. Love you all oodles for your fabulous reviewing. Enjoy!

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Sunday, September 18th...

One week after Hermione's trial...

The Gryffindor common room was deserted; a virtual ghost town, with a fine layer of dust settling in the corners where feet no longer trod. As per every evening after dinner, the large grated fireplace was filled with a brightly crackling flame. It was an empty symbol unnoticed in the equally empty common room.

Remus was in the library.

He'd scarcely been away from it for the past five days, and more recently he'd been missing classes. It wasn't rare to find him passed out in a pile of thick volumes while in the middle of a late night research marathon, or hidden behind a mound of empty styrofoam coffee cups, with the book so close to his tired eyes that his nose touched the pages.

Sirius was on the grounds.

Every spare moment between classes was spent in the small grass clearing beside the lake, his presence completely obscured by the three-quarter circling of trees on the fringe of the forbidden forest. It wouldn't be until hours past dark that he would finally drag himself through the portrait and drop into his bed, not bothering to shower until the next morning when he'd drag himself out of the tower and repeat it all over again; only able to sleep by working himself to pure exhaustion

Harry and Ron were never seen.

They'd missed every class since Hermione had been forcibly removed from the Great Hall, and after her sentencing they'd been running around with the Order grasping at everything and anything that could be done to get her out, ignoring any and all teachers, most especially Dumbledore. No one knew quite what words had been exchanged between the two parties, but they knew that there had been a falling out of drastic proportions.

Luckily, the white-jackets had cleared out immediately following the arrest, and there had been no following investigation in which they'd had to conceal Hermione's white cube; which was especially fortunate because they had no idea how to put everything back inside.

Two days ago they had disappeared into Hermione's room and no one had seen hide nor hair of them since. The atmosphere of the Gryffindor tower was despondent at best.

Lily and James were the only ones out of the six to have gone to dinner that night.

**BANG!**

The portrait slammed open with a disgruntled cry from the Fat Lady.

"JAMES!"

The raven-haired boy in question was walking quickly through the common room, across one of the few worn paths, and up the boys' dormitory steps with his girlfriend, Lily Evans, right behind him.

"James, don't be reckless!" The redhead pleaded, grabbing his sleeve.

"I'm going," he replied firmly, and fell to his knees to begin rummaging through his trunk. Lily ducked beneath the flying paraphernalia and knelt beside him.

"What is the matter with you?!" She tried to shut the trunk lid but he was stronger than her, and he kept it held up with one hand while the other continued searching and Lily struggled to use all her weight to close it again.

"Someone has to do something," he said, his voice growing louder in the empty dormitory.

"_Everyone's_ doing something, James. Remus is in the—"

James cut her off. "Remus has gone through every legal book and hasn't found anything that we can appeal for, Sirius is running himself down without point, and Harry and Ron have become recluse. _No one_ is doing _anything_."

A thick swell of liquid cloth pooled into his lap and a crinkled parchment was soon thrown on top of it. Grabbing his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map in one hand he stood up to leave, but Lily's hand tightened around his wrist.

"We may not have found a way to help Hermione," she said lowly. "_Yet – _But we _are_ doing something.'

"That's not good enough," James insisted. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the dorms, Lily having to jog on her shorter legs to keep up and maintain her grip on his forearm.

"I know you're worried, but—"

"We have no idea what they could be doing to her!" James shouted, pulling away. She watched him pace the common room anxiously, stirring up clouds of dust whenever he strayed into the disused portions of the floor. "She's been there six days, Lily! _Six days_!"

"I know," she whispered, using the couch back to support her. "But the Order—"

"Worthless!"

Lily's fists slammed onto her hips and she gave him a look that was clearly Hermione's 'you're-being-utterly-daft' look. "And what's your plan?"

He hesitated in his pacing and looked pensive. "I'm gonna get to Azkaban...find her...and start blowing stuff up," he nodded his head in abstract agreement with himself, as if he were deciding what a great plan he had after all.

"JAMES!" Lily shrieked.

The portrait door swung open and they both turned to look at the new arrival. It was Dumbledore and he was supporting a half-unconscious Remus.

"Have I interrupted something?" He asked in a tone too light for contrasting with the mood between Lily and James.

She pointed a quick finger at her boyfriend. "James is going after, Hermione."

He scowled at her before turning a defiant look to Dumbledore; arms cross haughtily over his chest. "So?"

"That is ill-advised, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said quietly.

"What good is your advice," James muttered, but everyone heard him – save, maybe, Remus.

"_James_," Lily hissed, mortified.

"What?" he answered defensively. "Maybe Harry and Ron are right – he's supposed to be the most powerful wizard in the world and he can't even keep a seventeen year old girl out of prison."

Dumbledore 'hmph'ed beneath his beard and nodded. "You are entitled to your opinion, Mr. Potter."

James' lips were pressed into a thin line.

"But I must ask," Dumbledore murmured. "That you never again accuse me of doing '_nothing'_ where Miss Granger is concerned. I would trade places with her if I could."

Arms slowly unfolding themselves, James looked chagrined. He might have said something if there hadn't been a particularly loud groan from Remus, trying to stand on his own.

Lily hurried over and helped Dumbledore guide the exhausted Gryffindor to one of the couches. Musty from neglect, the sofa's acrid fumes stymied a fit of coughing from Remus. Lily was already conjuring a compress and searching her satchel for a spare pepper-up potion when another set of footsteps entered the room.

"Party, eh?"

"Padfoot!" "Sirius!"

"Tree." Was all he said.

He must have been wearing at least five pounds of dirt and twice that amount of grass. Twigs were jutting out of every seeming location, and there was a large bloody smear at his temple that disappeared into his ebony hairline.

"James." And just like that, their argument was forgotten and James was slipping Sirius' arm over his shoulders and helping him over to the couch so Lily could care over both of their friends.

"Tree?" He grunted in question, moving Sirius around the coffee table and depositing him on the floor beside Remus' couch.

He hissed in pain at his unceremonious dropping and rubbed ruefully at his shoulder. "Apparently, I've got me a stronger right hook than I thought..."

James quirked an eyebrow.

"It fell on me."

Lily was astounded. "The tree _fell_ on you?!"

There was a sigh. "Only...you...would punch...a tree." The breathy words were followed by a jerking chuckle. Remus pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily on the armrest, and the damp rag of Lily's conjuring fell into his lap.

"Only you would torture yourself _reading_," Sirius joked back.

Remus' face was washed blank, and Sirius' face scowled as he realized his error in words. Remus looked away from his friends, only to glance back in surprise as a wheezy breath pushed weakly at his cheek.

"Lily?" He asked in surprise.

She had one hand pressed to her breast and her face was flushed pink as she tried to suck in air that didn't seem to be making it far down her throat.

"Lily?" James was on his feet now, leaning over her, and Dumbledore was moving quickly around to their side. "LILY?!"

She was clutching at her neck now, mouth opening and shutting like a landed fish and her face turning redder by the minute. Her beautiful emerald eyes were filled with an ugly, silent fear. Pushing himself weakly up, Remus moved with the strength of a newborn foal as he reached out and held the back of his palm a fraction of an inch above her gaping lips.

"She's not breathing!" he exclaimed as loudly as he was able, but it came out as a desperate sort of murmur.

Dumbledore had to forcibly move James and Sirius out of his way. Lowering himself beside her face in a liquid fluidity that spoke of an age younger than his own, he pressed a weather hand to the large pulse in her throat. It was thumping erratically in a frantic accompaniment to Lily's panic, but the rhythm was already slowing as her lungs burned with carbon dioxide and her circulation slowed.

He pressed his wand lightly against the small triangle of skin bared between the unbuttoned collar of her shirt and said, "_Ennervate!_"

Like a Muggle doctor shouting 'clear', a visible shock went through Lily's slender frame and her back arched up and off the couch. It was a painful sound as she gasped in a desperate breath of blessed oxygen.

James pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "Bloody hell, Lily," he exclaimed into her hair. "You sure know how to scare a bloke."

"Step back a moment," Dumbledore instructed. James, still grateful to him for helping his girlfriend, moved away from her with only a kiss to her forehead as a hesitation.

Their Headmaster cast a spell none of them had ever heard before and the only sign that Lily had been the spell's target was a slight shiver down her body as it worked over her. "I feel kinda numb-y," she described poorly.

"I had to shield your power before it did damage to you," he explained, straightening his robes.

Lily looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "Power?"

Dumbledore was shaking his head. "Ah, but Merlin if I haven't gone and gotten ahead of myself. Will one of you please fetch Mr. Weasley and the other Mr. Potter? This is something that affects the seven of you."

"Seven?" James repeated. "You mean Hermione too?"

Dumbledore nodded. "That is why we need Misters Potter and Weasley."

"That'll be easy," Sirius deadpanned.

Remus' breath hitched and he gave Sirius an odd look. Sirius rolled his eyes, "I was kidding."

Remus' frown deepened and he seemed confused. "I know..." he said slowly, taking deep breaths to regain his breathing.

"Mr. Black," Dumbledore interrupted. "Perhaps one of you should go now, before Mr. Lupin has a similar episode."

Sirius instantly looked up to the quiet boy on the couch and tried to cover his surprise. James and Remus were both looking at Lily.

"What...?"

"You should go, hun," James told her.

Remus added, "They might actually open the door."

Lily floundered helplessly. "I...I don't..."

"_Lily_," James pleaded.

"Maybe we should just leave them alone," she argued. "They just lost their best friend—"

"Hey!" Sirius shouted making Lily press a hand to her temple. "So did we!"

Lily was shaking her head. "It's not the same, Sirius. They've been friends for years. It'd be like if you lost James."

Just like men, Sirius and James met eyes and then abruptly looked away again. It was the equivalent of a woman's teary-eyed-hug. Lily, satisfied that her point had come across, went on.

"I saw the way they were around each other – they aren't _just _friends. They're..." She gestured aimlessly with her hands trying to find the words. "They're _more._"

"I don't understand," Remus murmured, prompting her to explain it in greater detail.

Her finely arched brows furrowed a moment. Then her eyes brightened, like a lumos spell going off in her head, and it seemed she had found the answer. Connecting her thumb and index finger with their partners on her other hand she held up her hands for view.

"They're like a triangle," she began animatedly.

"A triangle?" Sirius interrupted. They all looked at him in surprise, Lily's hands still up in the air, and his face was unusually grave.

"Y-Yes," Lily answered, a little unsure. Sirius cursed and began digging through his bag. He was muttering something about a 'prophecy'.

Dumbledore motioned for her to continue. "Mr. Black, I'm sure, will enlighten us in a few moments time. Please, go on.

She smiled weakly. "If a point was lost," she curled one of her index fingers back against her palm. "It would not longer be a triangle. They hold each other together, and without Hermione—"

"They're falling apart," Remus finished for her.

She nodded. "Exactly. We should let them be."

Dumbledore laid a hand upon her shoulder and she looked up at him with clear bewilderment painted across her delicate features. "Please, Miss Evans. I would not ask if this matter were not of grave importance."

Lily looked to James, as if asking his opinion, and the deep-set frown on his face wasn't helpful. She gave him a plaintive look that would stem any argument he might have been coming up with, and finally came up with her own decision.

"I'll try my best, Professor," she told him, standing up. "But I am no Hermione Granger."

Setting the rag beside the frantically rummaging Sirius for him to clean up with, Lily straightened her robes and set off for the shadowed doorway concealed beneath the girls' staircase.

"Polaris," she murmured to the portrait of a little girl in her hoopskirt and petticoats. She was petting a giraffe.

"So sorry, madame," the girl curtsied, blonde ringlets bouncing. "The two gentlemen inside have gone and changed the password."

Lily had figured as much. Rapping her knuckles lightly above the painting's inhabitant, she leaned closer to hear better.

"Harry? Ron?"

There was no answer.

"It's Lily. Please, open the door."

The blonde girl smiled apologetically when there was again no answer. Lily tugged anxiously on a piece of her hair. "Listen. We may have found something – it involves Hermione."

There was a loud click of a lock being slid back and very slowly the portrait door swung open.

She wasn't sure if Ron had slept in a week. His clothes were rumpled beyond repair and his hair was greasy and wild around his darkened eyes with their tired bags. He was standing so far into the doorway that she couldn't see around him.

"What?" he snapped.

Lily grabbed his hand. "Please, Ron, come out into the common room; Harry too. It's about all of us."

There was a short grunt and Harry's head appeared over Ron's shoulder. "Alright," he said in a blasé tone.

Lily's shoulder visibly sagged with relief, and she grabbed both of their hands – as if afraid they'd suddenly change their minds and dart back into Hermione's room – and led them out into the common room. When the saw Dumbledore standing beside the couch, both of them tensed and their grips on Lily's hand tightened.

Lily gasped and a sharp jolt of ice sliced through her back. She coughed suddenly, stumbled forward, and might have covered her mouth if Harry and Ron's grip hadn't been painfully attached to her. The room was reeling around her like a carousel gone off its axis and she tasted bile in the back of her throat. She couldn't breathe much less vomit.

"LILY!" James yelled. He nearly vaulted over the couch to get to her.

"Mr. Black," Dumbledore ordered firmly. "Remove them from her."

Sirius didn't even have to get up. Staring in horror at the suffocating girl, Harry and Ron both released her hands and stumbled back in disbelief. Instantly, Lily sagged against James and breathed in deeply, one hand pressed over her heart.

Dumbledore murmured his earlier spell again and Lily shivered in James' arms.

"What the hell-" Ron exclaimed.

"Have any of you fully read the Tempus Infractus Scrolls?" Dumbledore asked.

They all shook their heads.

He cleared his throat, "As you know, it contained the spell that brought these four to our present time – the spell to "unite the seven warriors through time". Miss Granger, however, believed that it contained more and so several members of the Order as well as outside sources have been working to translate the remainder of the scrolls."

"What did it say?" Harry demanded evenly.

"It described something called the "Seven-Pointed Star of Power" – each point delegated to a separate influence; Strength, Truth, Heart, and Courage ruled by the stronger Man, Beast, and Magic."

Remus pieced together the information quicker than the rest. "You mean we—"

"Yes, Mr. Lupin," the wizard nodded. "You are those powers. Miss Evans was awakened into 'Heart'."

Lily's eyes were as wide as bludgers.

"That is why you were having those episodes, Miss Evans," he explained. "The first I know not what the cause, the second came from Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley's strong...disfavor towards myself." They both scowled at this. "Physical contact enhances your power – it would have been worse had I not shielded you beforehand."

Lily was staring hard at Remus and he shifted uncomfortably under her piercing jade stare.

"I must ask," Dumbledore voiced. "Are you able to differentiate between which emotions you're intercepting?"

She turned to face the Headmaster, keeping eye contact with Remus long enough to slowly answer "Yes".

"Very good."

"Then what are the rest of us?" Remus asked quickly, steering the topic away. He was rewarded with a painfully jab to his knee.

Sirius was giving him a disapproving look as the smaller boy rubbed at his leg. "You, Moony," he said knowingly. "Are Truth."

Ron seconded that deduction. "You couldn't keep your mouth shut at the Three Broomsticks."

"At least I'm not fancied by a giraffe," Remus shot back with a satisfied smug. Ron was as red as his disheveled hair.

"Remember when that entire box of Hagrid's snifflers came after you?" Sirius reminded him, adding his own two knuts for a second time. "You're definitely Beast."

"Well Ron didn't make a tree fall on him," James butted in, turning on his friend. "_And_ you shattered that Butterbeer with just your hand."

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, "I have no problem being Strength. You're just jealous."

"No," Lily defended. "He's Courage – even if that means he's reckless enough to try and break into Azkaban."

"Speaking of stupid things," James interrupted, good-naturedly insulting himself. "I believe one of us got involved with a bit of fisticuffs a few days back."

Harry frowned at him, and the look deepened into a scowl as he glanced up at a blank-faced Dumbledore. "I figured _that_ out at the beginning of this little meeting."

Lily smiled widely to try and smooth the ruffled feathers. "Well if Harry's Man, than that makes Hermione –"

"Magic," Ron supplied. "Makes sense."

Dumbledore stepped forward. "Something must have happened to the seven of you that served as a catalyst to your powers."

Hermione's face fazed into Remus' mind. Her brow was furrowed and she was tapping a quill against her chin deep in thought. She tucked a curl behind her ear and looked at him, head tipped slightly to the side as if she were listening to something.

"_Perhaps – with the right people, of course – instead of tapping into a person's sense of self, it taps into...something else."_

"Defense Against the Dark Arts."

The moment he said it aloud, Hermione's face disappeared, but he couldn't help but think he'd seen a small smile on her face as it went.

The rest of them were looking at him expectantly. He saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces as he said, "The _Liberatio Praebeo_ spell, do you remember? None of us saw the same thing."

"A castle," Sirius supplied.

"A ring," Lily offered. "And a heart..."

"I saw a wonky looking skull, a wand," James' eyes squinted as he tried to remember. "And a lion, I think."

"A constellation – Orion, maybe – with a sword," Harry begrudgingly answered.

"Bells and chimes. Gold," Remus added.

"Cat eyes," Ron was shaking his head, frustrated that he hadn't connected it sooner. "Furs."

Dumbledore was nodding his head again. "Do any of you know what Miss Granger saw?"

They all shook their heads in turn until it came to Harry and Ron. They weren't moving.

"Harry?" Lily queried, perplexed.

The raven-haired boy shot Dumbledore a foul look that softened at Lily's confused face. He shifted his weight between his feet, and looked to Ron in silent conference. Finally, though he looked loathed to divulge it, he answered. "Hermione...she left a diary behind. We haven't looked through it yet."

--

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Ron had locked themselves back in Hermione's room, after being given an appointment with the Order to control their powers, and were continuing the long process of going through her things.

--

The last two days in the filled room had been spent sorting all of Hermione's research into a large pile atop her bed. It was not a small pile to say the least. Ron dropped the last binding of translations atop the miniature Everest and shrunk it all to fit into one of the drawers of the magical filing cabinet Harry had transfigured.

The red leather embossed diary was still sitting on her vanity, untouched.

Ron was in the middle of transferring the racks of Polyjuice Potion to the cabinet, when Harry called him over. Depositing the half empty container of flasks beside the waiting rack of Veritaserum, Ron dusted off his hands and moved over to his friend, sitting against the side of Hermione's bed.

"What did you find?" He asked, crouching wearily beside him.

Harry was holding a rather small cardboard box in his lap. His hands were shaking. Burned into the box's lid were the letters 'GT'. Golden Trio.

Ron reached over and pulled the lid off. Nestled at the very top were letters addressed to him and Harry. They both grabbed them and Harry opened his.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you're reading this, then my fears have proven true. Please, don't be angry that I didn't tell you, but I couldn't risk you and Ron for my sake. I do know, though, that I can say this with certainty for the future: once you read this letter, I will be missing you both terribly. Azkaban isn't the brightest of places to spend ones time, but it's worse off without your presence. I can only pray that it won't be too long before we'll be back together._

Harry had to stop for a moment to clear the lump from his throat.

_Please, help Dumbledore any way you can in my absence. I know things may seem dark now, but we're so close to defeating Voldemort; so close you can almost touch it with your fingertips. I've left everything to you and Ron – I know that you will use it to the Order's every advantage in this war. By now you must have seen a great deal more than you'd expected, and I can only apologize again for not telling you. You both have always been the troublemakers, and I suppose this year was my turn for skirting the rules. I did what I thought needed to be done. I'd ask that you send my research where it is most needed, and kindly send my potions to Professor Snape._

He looked around at the shelves and crates of dutifully labeled and stoppered potion flasks and worried why she'd felt the need to brew such dangerous and, in some cases, illegal potions.

_I've written letters to the others, as well. Please see that they get them, and that the papers in this box get to where they need to be as well._

_Now, I'm afraid I must end my letter; it's nearly time for the Quidditch game to begin and you know I've never missed seeing you play. Don't let what's happened dishearten you – who else will take care of Ron? Be kind to the Marauders and do your best to help them get back home. I fear I was rather unsuccessful in the time I had to find a spell to send them back._

Here the writing started to become a little smeared and watermarks marred Hermione's perfect cursive.

_I feel rather silly, and must look it too, crying over a piece of parchment. But I can't help, sitting here writing you this letter, thinking of a long piece of my life without you. No one would have thought it would have taken a troll for us to become friends, but it was I who never thought I could become so attached to someone. This sounds much like one of those ridiculous love letters one reads in Witch Weekly, but I just know you'll understand what I'm trying to say. We've become so close, and I'm only just now realizing it, and, as the stories go, it's come far too late._

_Don't laugh as I tell you this, but when I was little my mum told me about a boy she'd known when she was a little girl. She told me they were soul mates. I knew that word and asked if that's why she'd married my father. I remembered being confused when she'd told me that my father hadn't been the boy. She explained to me that she loved my father, but soul mates didn't have anything to do with love. The boy had been her other half. Whenever they were together she felt complete, and when he died young from a sickness she lost a piece of herself that she could never get back. She told me that the one you loved and the one who completed you could be two completely different people, and I suppose I've held on to that belief until now._

_I've never been **in** love with you, but at the same time I can't think of a time when I haven't loved you. Just thinking of being without you has ruined the ink; though, if I tried to rewrite this letter I think I'd ruin more. I don't want to feel empty, but that's what I fear will happen if they take me away from you. I think you might be my soul mate, Harry._

_And that's why I'm afraid. I'm afraid for me, but mostly I'm afraid for you and Ron. I'm afraid of what would happen if Voldemort ever found you. I'm afraid that you'll both go on and forget all about me. But it doesn't matter, because no matter the future, I'll always love you both. Azkaban can't be too bad as long as I have you and Ron in my heart._

_Please be safe. Love,_

_Hermione._

Harry roughly wiped the tears from his eyes and coughed loudly to try and clear the thick lump of emotion in his throat. It didn't help. He heard muted sniffling beside him, but couldn't bring himself to look at Ron as he read his own letter.

Vision still watery, he pulled out the remaining envelopes and set them on the floor beside the box. Nestled inside was a small potion's rack, a light blue ribbon tied into a bow around its handle. He lifted it out to read the bottles' labels. Wolfsbane Potion.

He'd completely forgotten about the young Lupin's lycanthropy, but Hermione, always thinking, had remembered and brewed some. It looked like a gift, and Harry remembered dimly that in his parents' time the potion must not have even been invented yet. Tucked between two of the bottles was the envelope addressed to Remus. He set the entire rack on the floor and bent down over the box again.

He picked up the large stack of parchments, the last item in the box, and as he read the first paper a hand went to his mouth in disbelief.

_The Properties and Effects of the Aging Potion_.

He flipped frantically through the entire stack, but they were all the same, and by the time he was finished he was crying bitter, silent tears. In his hands he held Hermione's homework for the next three weeks.


	16. XV The Writing on the Wall

Polls: Sorry – I haven't had the time to tally the votes yet, but all of you want her out and none of you (if I recall correctly) wanted her COMPLETELY batty.

I'll update my bio with the polls after my bath, but I just wanted to get this up for **PrincessJulie-Potter** 'cuz it's her birthday, and we December girls gotta stick together.

--

A/N: Wow…I think I might actually get those fifteen chapters in by New Years like I promised. Not to mention a little somethin' somethin' for Christmas. (Keep an eye out for that, btw) Enjoy the chapter.

--

--

"Morning Death."

The bundle of rags stirred and shifted, luminous eyes catching the torchlight from the back shadows of the six by six cell, and very cautiously the shape crept on silent hands and crouched legs out of the darkness and to the fringe of the light that penetrated the bars in a half circle. The shape didn't cross.

One lone hand reached out, stark alabaster beneath the film and grime, and crooked fingers – nails packed with white powder – clutched the lip of the wooden bowl resting against the door. It grated loudly against the stone floor as the lopsided bowl was dragged out of the light and into the safety of the darkness.

A high pitched squeal of laughter rebounded off the walls and the creature in the darkness flattened itself to the floor.

"Yu shouldn't be so loud," the giggler warned, pressing his long, sallow face to the bars. "_They_ might hear you."

Glowing eyes widening in the reflective gloom, the shape grabbed its bowl and scurried back to the far wall, slipping over last night's waste.

The man howled with laughter, purple lips curled back over jagged teeth. The shaking creature's pink tongue darted out across its own teeth, reflexively checking their condition at the repulsive display.

"Death cracked quick." The straw-haired boy who'd awoken her leered. "You owe me dinner, Hyena."

The lanky man laughed deliriously, spittle dribbling over his stubble beard. Death hunched over her bowl and slopped the watery gruel furiously into her mouth to drown out the conversation and in the vain hope that it would put the smallest dent in her agonizing hunger. It didn't. Two bowls of gruel every third day was hardly enough to sustain a growing girl, and she spent a great deal of her days sleeping to escape the pain of her empty stomach.

When she was finished, she slid the misshapen bowl back across the stone and it **clinged!** to a stop against the bars.

"Lesse your pretty face, duckie," the blonde hissed. She shook her head despondently in the gloom and pressed her back flush against the wall.

The first night, Death had curled up against the bars to sleep, comforted by the dim firelight, and had been awoken by a scaled hand against her back and an acrid breath sucking at her happiness and turning her body to ice. She hadn't made the same mistake twice. In fact, she rarely ventured out of the darkened half of her cell, for feat that she'd be in reaching distance should one of the remaining Dementors appear.

The little light didn't seem so comforting now.

Blabber was awake now, screeching and hollering and banging her bowl vehemently against the row of bars. Scarecrow threw his lick-cleaned dish in her direction and the woman let out a petulant squawk.

Blabber, Scarecrow, Hyena.

Yes, she knew all their nicknames, though, she never used them. Actually, she hadn't said anything since that first night. She hadn't even tried. And, after all, what was there really to say?

Hyena had been the one to name her – said she was 'silent as the grave'.

They'd never called her by her real name, and she'd have bet her own dinner they'd already forgotten it. They'd forgotten their own, and the only thing she knew them by were their ridiculous nicknames.

Shuffling to the corner opposite the one filled with shit and mold, to the only place she kept remotely clean, her dark-adjusted eyes found the dark swaddle of cloth she'd torn from her robes. Carefully peeling back the sides, she unearthed her most prized possession.

She'd taken it when one of the human guards had been making his rounds of her cell block. He'd been tallying up how many occupants had "served their sentence" – exchanging each rotting body with a meaningless line of chalk.

As the man had passed by her cell, the broad stick of powder was deemed too whittled down to write with and had been discarded. She waited ages after the man had moved on, rooted to the spot and fixated on the small pebble of ivory sitting unwittingly at the edge of the torch's light.

Only when she was _absolutely_ sure that he had moved on, did she slink forward and snatch it up into her hands. It was heavenly and god sent – a small piece of home in an unfamiliar place.

She'd used it sparingly at first, fearing that the tiny morsel of chalk she could only grip between her grimy fingernails would run out, but when each day passed and the size remained undiminished she expended her energy with fervor.

She didn't have her innocence to keep her sane like Sirius. She was guilty and she knew it, and only two things kept her from turning into the mindless monster in the cell beside her. The first was the knowledge that, without a doubt, she had done what she believed to be right. The second was a security blanket of sorts, but what did Hermione Granger turn to for comfort?

Her work.

"She's at it a'gin," Colonel crooned, as she lifted the chalk to the stone wall. He'd earned the nickname by camouflaging his face black every day, or so Scarecrow had rambled. She didn't want to know what he was using for paint.

Her chalk lines moved gracefully across the slick stone as she worked. From memory, she mapped out the Tempus spell she'd used to bring forward the Marauders besides its incantation and with deliberately slow and calculated drawings she began to dissect the ritual's components. Breaking it up into every tiny piece she hoped to be able to fashion a counter-ritual that would have the power to send them back.

She would spend the rest of the day mapping it.

At least, she thought it was the rest of the day. She had no way of telling time without windows, or clocks, or a time awareness charm, and each time she laid down to sleep it might have been for minutes or half the day.

The only sign of time's continuous flow were the meals; though, Death couldn't be sure if they were being delivered at the same time or really even every third day. It had bother her at first – not knowing – and she'd spent hours haranguing herself and counting off the seconds before she relented. The fact was time simply didn't matter here. It wasn't as if she had a freedom date to count down to, and the thought of ticking off the seconds to a lifetime sentence was rather depressing indeed.

Rolling the chalk between her fingers, she crouched down into the corner, continuing her list of ritual components all the way down to the floor. Her eyes had grown accustom to the dark and her writing, compared to the blind scribbling from the first days, had managed to be as neat and precise as always, despite the odd writing surface.

She drew an arrow from one line to another, paused, scribbled some odd symbol, then swiped the flat of her hand across the lot of it, wiping it all away and starting once more from the beginning.

After a very long time she felt the scrape of nails on stone, and looked in horror at the miniscule pellet that was all that was left of her chalk. She whimpered softly, looking longingly over the work left to be done. For a moment, her eyes moved restlessly between the two, hoping against hope that she'd somehow be able to make the chalk last.

She readjusted her grip on it experimentally and choked as the pebble cracked and threatened to crumble into a dozen pieces.

"What'sa matta, Death?" Colonel snipped, hanging through the bars. "Lost ya thought?"

Death scurried back to the clean corner and throwing herself to the hard ground, breathlessly lowered the chalk piece back into its cloth cradle like it were the holy grail itself. When it remained intact throughout its depository, she gave a sigh of relief and folded the ends back over it, hiding the precious parcel in the darkest shadows of the corner.

Dotted eyes looked back out at her from the rather lopsided head of a stick figure she'd drawn that first day as a protector of her sacred chalk. He and his equally sticky partner beamed idiot smiles from their painted faces and maintained their guardian stance on either side of the walls that meet in the corner.

"I bet you all dinner, she don't make it to the raid." Colonel looked expectantly down the row; at least as best he could with his cheek smashed against the steel rods.

"Hyena ain't got any dinner left," Scarecrow looked pointedly at the cell to his left and its occupant who broke into delirious snickers – amused by his own imminent starvation.

Still lamenting the loss of her prized possession, Death scrambled over the mold-slicked stones – the sound of her dry lips moving clearly audible as she mouthed the words across the wall trying to figure out where her next piece of chalk would take her. One line. Scramble. Scramble. Two more lines from another wall.

"POTTER'S SPY!" Blabber shrieked suddenly, and Death hit the floor instantly. Quaking with furious terror, the girl lay flush against the floor for a full minute – scarcely daring to breath. When there were no icy breathes nor the foul stench of rotting flesh she cautiously lifted her head beneath the tangled brush of her hair and got up into a crouch.

She froze there, like a rabbit sensing a wolf on its trail, and peered, wide eyed with luminous irises through the gloom and out into the light.

"Ickle wittle Death," Hyena chortled through a thick cough of phlegm and worse.

"Always does this." Scarecrow, apparently tired of the show, rattled the bars surreptitiously and flung himself to the floor to lay.

Another minute passed without movement from the girl and then...

Scramble. Scramble.

She was at it again.

He lips were like river reeds rasping and rubbing together in a faint and dismal sound. Keep working, keep working – that was the key.

Her prison mates ignored her.

"Coming, they're coming," Hyena chanted in a falsetto giggle. "Set me free, set me free."

"Shut up," Scarecrow snapped irritably. The Dementors had kept them all up the night before.

Scramble. Scramble.

"We trusting Blabs?" Colonel was pacing an odd hourglass shape in his cell.

"_Shut up_."

"Set me free. Coming, coming."

Rustle. Rustle.

"Bitch, whore!" Blabber shrieked. There was a loud **thump!** as Death careened into one of the walls. "Kill her! Kill her they will!"

"Set coming, free-free!" Hyena cackled gleefully, leaping and flinging himself about the small cell in a warped, demented dance, misplacing the words in his excitement.

Scramble. Rustle.

"SHUT UP!"

Death flew back into the filth ridden corner as if she'd been physically struck. There was a sound of tearing cloth as the seam of her robe ripped right down the side and then she was slipping into refuse and muck.

As her hands and legs sank into her own cooling defecation and she felt the mess slide between her fingers, Death's insides were screaming. It was disgusting and it was vile and she was covered in it.

Frantically trying to get free, she reached for the walls, but her dung coated hands slipped on the damp stones. In a panic, she dug her splintered nails into the crevices and heaved herself desperately to her feet. Their cruel laughter surrounded her as she stumbled free, feet squelching in the muck.

One hurried step and she was flat on her face, her worn Mary Janes failing her and losing traction against the spilled pile of filth. Vicious and spiteful the cells around her roared with a laughter that spilled across the hall as quickly as the demeaning story could be passed along.

She could feel is seeping beneath her skirt and nearly screamed. Slipping around in the shit and sick, she only succeeded in spreading it farther out into her small cell smearing mud like streaks and circles as her hands tried to find purchase. She was crying, the waste melting down her cheeks the only thing that made her aware she was doing so.

She finally found her purchase and gripped to the crevice in the wall with a newfound adoration. Sobbing pathetically, she was trapped between shying away from the bestial laughter of the others and the rank corner from which she'd just extricated herself. Her arms and legs were coated with shit and worse, staining the front of her robes as well, wide amber eyes peeking out from a face smeared with teary filth.

The smell was overpowering, nauseating, and oxygen depriving. Head rolling, she tried to breathe through her mouth. The moment her lips parted the slime rolled over her trembling mouth and dripped down her throat.

She retched violently and suddenly, purging the day's meal instantly from her system. The vomit seeped into her robes and dribbled down her chin as she choked and gagged out the last of the watery meal.

Stumbling two nauseated steps forward amid Hyena's insane guffaws and Blabber's unintelligible shrieks of 'filth', Death fell to her knees and screamed.

She screamed and screamed and screamed. The liquidated feces splattered to the stone floor in sludgy droplets as gravity pulled the refuse down her body, and still she screamed. The bile burned her throat and the tears burned her eyes, but underneath it all it was her heart that burned the most.

She screamed because Azkaban was killing her.

She screamed because there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Like a blaring beacon, light filled the hall, intensifying Blabber's disjointed crowing, but it was only the light at the end of a wandtip. Two stocky guards came running in with a woman guard just ahead of them. They stopped in front of Death's cell, because it was obvious her screams were the cause of their sudden investigation.

"What the bloody hell is the matter with you?" The woman barked fiercely, keeping a safe distance from the bars, but lifting her wand just high enough to cast a weak light into the cell. The screams subsided into wheezing breathes and then into silence.

Feral, and with the primal look Eve must have given God as he cast her out from Eden, a lone honey eye peered out from beneath the sepia torrent of curls before the mess of tattered clothing and grime sunk to the floor on its knees.

"Looks like the piggy wanted a bath." One of the men rapped his wand along the bars.

"Let's make it squeal again," the other hissed. A door banged open somewhere down the hall as if a sudden gust of wind had knocked the catch free on the latch. It ricocheted back shut.

Death clapped her hands over her ears as the wailing began.

The faces in the cells around her disappeared into the gloom, and even one of the guards looked uneasy. "Let's go," he insisted. "Those Dementors are nasty blighters."

The other man looked disappointed, but started off in the opposite direction of the slamming door. The woman gave Death one last sneer of superior contempt and knocked her perfectly shampooed blonde hair over her shoulder before stalking after her companions.

The wailing was getting closer and Death melted to the floor. Hand over hand, feeling as though the wails had drained her very strength, the sewage-slicked girl dragged and slid her body to the far wall where she curled up – back pressed to the freezing stones.

Terrified eyes watched the lines of mildew freeze in a cracking spider web, getting ever closer to her until she was surrounded by the sheen of ice and her breath was coming in short, fogged breathes. And then she squeezed her eyes frightfully shut. The tears started again and she curled up as tight as she was able – not even the smell of waste and vomit was worse than the creatures that stalked the corridor a scant six feet from her shaking body.

She knew they'd be reaching for her, even before she felt the fingers curling and drawing at her soul. It felt like a hundred thousand ants crawling across your bare flesh, and when they drew at you it was as if they were trying to pull the happiness straight through her skin.

Her eyes snapped open with a shuddering breath as they got a taste of her and beckoned the others to come and share the deliciousness of her happiness. They were crowded against the bars, scaled hands appearing from beneath the ragged cuffs of their cloaks and the brittle fingers curled into tight fists again and again. Death's body jerked with each pull at her soul and filth splattered unnoticed across the floor with each spasm.

She could see the terrible vision of Sirius falling through the veil, the attacks on her fellow DA members, the attacks on Hogwarts. Professor Lupin's bloody and mauled body – caught half transformed in his death, surrounded by the innocent Muggles he'd been loosed upon by Death Eaters. People were screaming in her head – each familiar and each with a matching face that ripped gasping sobs from her lips.

These memories had been too terrible to witness the first time. But that only attracted the Dementors more, and they brought the same scarring images forward again and again. Just like every time before.

Shrieking in tormented agony and despair, she reached out – fingers straining – to touch the childlike drawings. Ron was grinning dumbly at her, the chalk-line smile never faltering, and beneath his unique scar, Harry's smile did the same.

Another fist, another spasm, and another unwanted memory.

"Harry," she whispered, voice cracking. "Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, _Harry_..."

She didn't want to be here anymore. She wanted to go home where it was safe and where Harry and Ron were. She wanted them to tell her how she studied too much, she wanted to watch them concentrating over a game of Wizard's Chess, she wanted to watch them play Quidditch again.

"_Harry._" She sobbed his name, desperately repeating it again and again like a sacred prayer.

They'd almost fed their fill off her. She recognized the blackness dotting her vision of the two chalk stick figures and the heavy weight against her wet eyelids.

She had no idea that miles away, her best friends were reading her letters and crying as well...

Thousands of miles away from home, Death's dirty tears slapped rhythmically against the stone in weak accompaniment to the sobs of her best friends in the silence of her room.

She whispered Harry's name one last time and pressed her fingertips to his blocky hand. She wished more than anything to have him there, with her in the dark cell, holding her dirty hand.

The Dementors moved off, leaving the broken and empty girl lying on the floor and creating a trail of wailing cells behind them. Shuddering with each heavy breath, she passed into unconsciousness just after a light pressure squeezed her hand. Her arm fell limply to the ground beside her.

There in that pitiful and disgusting heap of rags and filth, dreaming of screaming faces and bloody bodies, Hermione Granger turned eighteen.

--

_Wah! I'm so mean to Hermione._

_As always, hope to have the next bit up by tomorrow, who knows though…finals are next week and my teachers are pretty gay with last minute homework._

_Just, fyi – I was seriously planning the last bit even before **PrincessJulie-Potter** told me today was her birthday. Honest. Kinda freaky. (But also what a coinky-dink) Coincidence; for those of you who don't speak my language_


	17. XVI Truth's Magic

Released: 13  
Not Released: 0

Mad: 2  
Not Mad: 6  
Undecided: 4

A/N: Doing my best to crank these out with finals and all, please bare with me.

A/N to **Naomi **: Dude...my birthday is the twenty-third too! And are you from Iowa? – 'cuz that'd just be too weird.

--

--

"I'm worried..." Lily whispered, keeping her eyes on McGonagall.

James looked up from the spellbook he'd hidden in his lap to read. "Who isn't?" he whispered back, uselessly swatting at a rampant clump of black hair only to have it fall back out of place again.

She shook her head. The quill in her hand **tip-tapped!** in thoughtful metronome. "I mean Remus."

Checking to see that McGonagall was busy with another student, James shifted the heavy volume from his lap to Harry's empty chair and focused his curious attention on his girlfriend. "We all know he fancied Hermione, but..." he began, brow furrowed.

Lily shook her head again. "That's not what I meant. The full moon is in three days. How much worse will his transformation be if he doesn't get some sleep?"

James was solemnly silent. Then, sighing deeply, he rubbed his eyes and it was almost a gesture of defeat. "A lot worse." Lily's look was filled with a softened 'told-you-so'. "But how do we get him to stop?"

"Mr. Lupin!"

The future Mr. and Mrs. Potter whirled around in their seats to find McGonagall, who had made her way to the back of the classroom, standing menacingly over a distant Remus who was just then pulling his nose out of his own spellbook. Sirius looked noncommittally at the situation then morosely looked in the opposite direction – finding more interest in the display of half-transfigured pet models.

"While you may consider yourself an expert, Mr. Lupin," she barked crisply. "I assure you that if your lack of attention persists you'll learn firsthand a few new tricks."

The classroom snickered.

Thoughtfully marking his current page with his quill, the boy whom his friends had had to literally drag to class, softly closed the book with a tiny poof of dust. In silence he pushed back his chair, grabbed his bag, and walked out of the room.

"I was hoping you had an idea..." Lily sighed halfheartedly and turned back to the front as McGonagall, raising her voice, brought the classroom back under order.

The rest of the period was spent silently taking notes.

--

**Locked up tight but holdin' the key  
Clock keeps tickin' like it's laughin' at me  
I wonder  
What spell I'm under**

Death sat cross-legged in the middle of her cell, where it was always night, and lifted up the bundle in her lap. Looking furtively left and right, she cautiously unwrapped the item and lifted it up to her perpetually wide-pupiled eyes. They narrowed in suspicion as they took in the impossible before her. Wary of some sort of trickery, Death pressed the object to her hand for a crude measurement.

The stick of chalk was as long as her thumb.

--

_Oceans apart day after day  
And I slowly go insane  
I hear your voice on the line  
But it doesn't stop the pain_

Remus let the portrait door swing shut behind him, ignoring the Fat Lady's prying questions; "shouldn't you be in class?". Hollow gray eyes swept over the dusty common room with its cheery fire burning in the hearth as slow, calculated steps moved him across it.

The silence was broken by a feral howl.

He kicked violently at the end table, knocking it over, and flung his bag across the room to the tune of shattering inkwells and scattering papers. Panting heavily, he sank into the couch and laid his head in his hands.

--

**Days go by in a pulseless haze  
Who's that person that's wearin' my face  
Denyin'  
What he's hidin'**

Death ran her finger along the chalk, ever so gently. Unwilling to believe the obvious mirage, she crawled on the balls of her feet to the last section of clean wall. A long, thick line of white powder followed every stroke of her hand, and the knees went out from under her. Joyful tears rolled down her dirty face with the chalk clutched to her breast.

"What you blubbering about?" Scarecrow demanded harshly from the shadows of his own cell.

She ignored him, too wrapped up in the euphoria of her chalk's mysterious re-growth. Still taking care not to wake Blabber, Death pressed herself against the corner where the poor substitutes for her best friends smiled blithely back.

She whispered nonsensical words, too soft for any other prisoner to hear – too excited to remember the order of things.

"I can do it...help can." She rubbed her cheek against Harry's, smudging the line of his face. "Fix me let...help you. Please, please..." The tears were back; desperate, like they too often were in this stone prison.

She pressed a hand against Ron's chest to steady herself, but she was already sliding down the wall. "No, please, please," she begged in a breathless whisper. "Let help – me can, please..."

"Me don't forget..." Death shook her head – **swish! swish! **against the stone wall. She was still human, still intelligent. She forced herself to remember the way words went.

"Forget..." Her face crumbled. "No! No forget...don't."

She was crying still, but now the bitter saline tears were continued out of frustration. Remember, remember! "Don't m-me f-forget..."

She floundered her fingertips across the mold, broken nails catching in the cracks. Even with eyes too long kept in the dark to see in much else, the tears made it longer until she found Harry's hand. She ground her palm against the concrete until it hurt, trying, as if it were really her best friend's hand, to curl her fingers around his.

"Don't...for-forget...me..."

--

_Wherever you go  
Whatever you do  
I will be right here waiting for you _

"Hermione..." Remus slid his hands through his hair and finally hung them over his knees. "I've looked everywhere."

His eyes fixed on empty space; the window seat where she was fond of curling up in. There was a long, low hiss like the air being let out of a balloon and Remus looked at the window seat with more interest.

"Hermione?"

There was, quite obviously, no reply from the girl hundreds of miles away and Remus shook his shaggy head with a sinking feeling of foolishness. He must have needed as much sleep as Lily said if he'd begun hearing things.

"We can't get you out." It was more of an admission to himself than a continuance of his one-sided conversation with the window seat, but there was still the repetition of the low hissing sound gone unheard. "And I...I don't know what terrible things they're doing to you..."

A hand passed over his face as he tried to regain his composure. The images in his mind of a perfect Hermione, laughing as Sirius and James bewitched the mop to chase adoringly after filch, smiling as she perused the bookshelves in Hogsmeade, turned painfully dark. He could taste the blood in the back of his throat and smell the rank odor of rot as female screams echoed in a tiny black hole – he couldn't see her, but he could taste, and smell, and hear everything.

His eyes snapped open with a loud gasp from his white lips, and the hand that ran down his face this time was trembling with emotion. "You don't deserve this," he choked and had to stop to gather himself together.

When that was completed as best he could, he fell back against the couch and let his head fall back as well. Almost lazily he let his face fall towards the window and he regarded it with a morbid half-smile. "I look a right sight...talking to a bloody seat," his smile faltered. "James'd never let me hear the end of it..."

He struggled to keep the sudden thought of James, the mop, and Hermione from turning painful again. The fire popped and sizzled with an odd, prolonged sound. After he could no longer stand his eyes to be closed, he opened them, and, for that half-second before they adjusted, he swore he saw her sitting on the window seat, long legs dangling over the edge and the questioning tilt to her head.

"Why..." Remus asked quietly to the now empty seat, as if it were the simplest question in the world. "Why did you have to play the martyr?"

--

**I can't go on like this  
I won't let myself miss the rest of my life**

Death's cheeks burned with tears, and she let them run their course without complaint. Then the burn began to spread and she realized it was arcing up her legs from her toes and curling around her hips like a tiny questing flame. A gasp was coaxed from her lips as the discomfort turned to pleasure and her head lolled on her shoulders.

One of the others might have said her name, but she couldn't be sure – she was falling into wondrous heat. It made her body tight and her skin tingle as the warmth spread from her limbs straight into her center. Her heart picked up its staccato tempo with an exponential fervor that had her breast trembling with each thundering beat.

Heavy-lidded with lips curved upwards in ecstasy, Death was in undiluted bliss when a hand grabbed her shoulder. Head rolling back carelessly, she was jarred abruptly out of her transcendent bliss by a pair of dark emerald eyes glinting in the torchlight.

--

_I took for granted, all the times  
That I though would last somehow   
I hear the laughter, I taste the tears  
But I can't get near you now_.

Remus looked up, startled, as the door to Hermione's bedroom swung open and a gaunt Harry emerged from the stairwells shadow like some horror-story 'creature of the night'. The look on his pale face painfully reminded Remus that thoughts you spoke aloud tended to get overheard.

Their mutual silence was disturbed by yet another door opening – this time the common room portrait. The Gryffindors were returning from their classes.

Harry moved to go back into Hermione's room, but Ron's sudden appearance in the doorway stopped him. Actually, he turned right into the lanky redhead.

_Sssss..._

The hiss had returned, snake-like and nearby. "Did you hear that?" He asked Harry, but of course there was nothing to be heard over the dim roar of several dozen relaxing Gryffindors.

Harry, predictably, shook his head and coupled it with an odd look.

_Sssss..._

Remus rubbed at his ear, trying to dislodge the odd sound.

_Seeeee..._

He turned around looking for the source of the sound, the noise. Around and around he turned until he'd made himself dizzy, and through the swirl of colors and faces he saw Lily and James and Sirius enter the room behind a group of chatty fifth years.

"Remus?" Sirius' voice sounded far away, like he was talking over some wind.

Luxurious black lines fazed across his vision, and large honey eyes opened over everything he saw like a transparency placed over the world around him. The hissing was growing louder. "Hermione?"

_See the truth._

--

**It's time to take that dare  
There's still a world out there waitin' for me**

Death almost couldn't tear her eyes away. At the soft **pop!** she rolled her head to the other side, a hand clutching to the one on her shoulder to ensure that her lack of view would not send the vision away.

She sniffed at the air, but the shadowed figure's scent was overrun by rot and refuse and the light was to his back – obscuring his face.

--

_If I see you next to never  
How can we say forever _

The world around him darkened to a vague orange circle of firelight coming from a torch on the wall. Something was moving just outside the light, and a hot panting made the air in the small enclosure humid. He took a step closer.

His eyes were adjusting and what he'd thought to be a lump of rags stirred and a haunted face appeared, pale beneath the dirt. The creature's eyes were half-lidded and the shadow turned them into glittering black jewels beneath their lids. He took another step and saw something he couldn't understand.

Harry's upper body was coming straight out of the wall, while the lower portion remained confined to the stone in a childish chalk rendering. The very real looking Harry had his hands on the creature's shoulders and he seemed to only have eyes for it.

"Hermione?"

She tilted her head to the side.

--

**When something's come and gone  
What good is holdin' on?  
Why waste tomorrow chasin' yesterday?**

Death's grip tightened on the hand, and the heat inside her spiked to a dizzying sensation. Arms wrapped around her shoulders and she sensed Harry's head fall beside her own. He always smelled of peppermints.

And then, suddenly, and quite by magic, she could smell him; smell the sharp bite of mints that smelled far better than any cologne. She inhaled deeply, savoring the smell and the feel of his arms. She didn't want to see the new man – he wasn't Harry, he wasn't _home_.

And she wasn't quite sure if he'd been referring to her when he'd spoken that _odd_ name.

--

_Whatever it takes  
Or how my heart breaks  
I will be right here waiting for you_

Remus crouched down beside her, calculating gunmetal eyes taking in the rapid rising and falling of her chest and the strange flush in her cheeks. Her head was limp upon its perch of her shoulders and the glassy sheen of her eyes served as a sign that she was no longer in the reality in which he existed.

Reaching up, he took her dirt-smudged chin lightly between his fingers and turned her face towards him. He fell back with a shout of surprise and was sent rocketing back to Hogwarts, like a spirit exorcised from its human host.

Her eyes had burned with honey flames.

--

**I guess we could carry on livin' asleep  
Who is the fool who could choose to just keep pretendin'**

There was a sudden loss of tension from her shoulders, and through the dim haze of tingling, passionate heat, Death looked up to find her friend disappearing back into the wall. Piece by piece, he was converted back to chalk and simply lines until all that was left were his eyes. They were the last to go.

And then the blessed heat drained out of her, swirling away and down, down out of her feet. With a shuddering breath, the coldness of the cell filled her once again. She shivered and, overwhelmed, fell herself against the wall – pleasure intoxicated mind trying to dredge up the short term memories of a few moments ago.

Heavy breathing reached her ears from across the way. Scarecrow's horrified face was pressed between the bars.

"_What the bloody hell did you do?!_"

--

Dumbledore looked around at the students gathered in his office; though, two he suspected were there against their will. "It seems," he began. "That Hermione's powers are coming into maturity as well."

"So Hermione actually transported Remus to Azkaban?!" Lily looked disbelieving.

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully and candy **clicked!** against his teeth as he shifted his lemon drop to the other cheek. "I think it's more likely that Miss Granger tapped into Mr. Lupin's power of 'Truth'. After all, 'seeing is believing' as they say."

"I was really there, then?" Remus pressed. Dumbledore nodded.

"I'm worried what her uncontrolled powers might mean," he said. "If she were to unwittingly activate them under the eyes of the guards it could mean a worse fate..."

"They wouldn't accuse her of trying to break out, would they Professor?" Lily pressed.

"I think you know better than that, Miss Evans," he answered solemnly, and the weight of his words dropped her into a chair.

"It is a good coincidence however," he went on, one hand idly stroking Fawkes. "That has brought you here. I've received word from the Ministry – they will allow someone to see her today."

"Are you meaning one of _us_, sir?" James' disbelieving tone was drawn out as if to guarantee he hadn't heard incorrectly.

Dumbledore held up a finger. "Only one."

In a claustrophobic silence, the six looked at one another and came to a decision.

--

"Wakey, wakey monster."

Death was awoken to the jarring **clang!** as the guard banged on the bars of her cage. She didn't move from her corner, knowing that he would move on when his attempts to goad her were unsuccessful – as always.

Except, this time he didn't. "Y'ev got yourself a visitor."

She uncurled and looked up.

Harry's face was framed in torchlight.

She couldn't believe it. "_Harry_?"

He moved to step closer, but the guard's arm stopped him. "Dun get too close. She's dangerous."

Death interrupted them. "Are you _real_?" She spoke slowly, forcing the words out in deliberate placement and pronunciation.

"Everyone misses you, Hermione," He said quickly. His eyes squinted trying to make out her shape in the shadows.

**I part my lips to speak  
But the words are out of reach  
I guess that really means  
There's nothin' left to say  
**

She moved forward slowly, crouched down and shuffling. Too many strange things had been happening. When she finally slinked into the light Harry gagged.

Her robes hung in strips over her shoulders and her blouse was torn across the chest and diagonally along the bottom. Her skirt was unraveling and rumpled, and her legs were completely bare – socks and shoes long discarded in the corner. Her hair was a complete mess; tangled, knotted, sticky, and full of static. In addition to all of this, she was covered from head to toe in filth.

Her honey eyes stood out starkly against the dirt background of her face and she stared at him with teary disbelief. "You came..."

Harry floundered, shocked at the utter relief in her voice that made it sound as though she hadn't really thought to see him ever again. "Of course I came – you're my best friend!"

"Strange things..." She seemed to trip over her own tongue. "Strange things here..."

Harry glanced quickly at the guard. "Yeah, I know. We're looking into it – don't worry. We're doing everything we can for you."

"Won't find a way," she told him. Her childish monosyllabic words seemed oddly partnered with such a serious message.

"Don't give up hope, Hermione," he ordered, vehemently. Her face, nearly unrecognizable beneath the bags and slime and dirt, was blank. "Remember my godfather? He got through it and so can you."

"Harry..."

The look on her haunted face was what tore the last strings of her heart. She looked _resigned_.

"Sleep," she said.

Harry shook his head and grabbed a hold of the bars. The guard started to stop him, but let it go when he compared Death's distance to them. "I can't sleep; not with you in a place like this."

"Date?"

"The twenty-eighth." His face was so grave – too serious for someone his age. Death looked down at her own ragged, revolting appearance and felt the discomfort of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

**I wish you all that I wish for myself  
To have that ache of emptiness behind us  
And not still inside us  
**

She didn't want him seeing her like this. A half-step back into the shadows she forced herself to stop, but it was a quaking pause heightened by wide watery eyes. She had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to die here in this prison, but she didn't want her best friend – a boy who'd seen too many horrors already – to witness her decay into insanity and rot. It was a thought that made the tears start to flow.

Suddenly, she was at the bars, a brown hand tangled in Harry's shirt. She pulled him to her before the guard could act and kissed him quickly.

Electricity surged through her body at too high a voltage for it to cope with. She was flung back off the bars with a screech, and lay spasming on the stone floor as the shock subsided. The guard repocketed his wand and grabbed Harry roughly by the arm.

"That's enough for you."

Harry was escorted all the way to the main drawbridge and then thrown unceremoniously out. As he stumbled despondently into the bright midday sun the words whispered from lips that had never touched his own echoed over and over in his mind...

...a depressing record crackling "_don't come back"..._

---------------

A/N: Sorry H/Hr fans – they did NOT kiss...if you're confused, then go reread.

A/N2: Powers will be more explained in future chapters, if you're confused please be patient.

A/N3 to **Rane2920072:** _Professor_ Lupin is already dead, as I mentioned in one of the first chapters. _Lupin_ Lupin (the young one) is obviously still alive and kicking. The death scene was a memory of hers. Just thought I'd clear that up for ya. Old Lupin dead, Young Lupin alive


	18. XVII The Raid

Right...y'all better freaking enjoy this 'cuz you probably ain't getting anything 'til Thursday, the 23rd (my birthday, btw). It's the Christmas season so you're gonna be getting Christmas fics, and you'll damn well like 'em! Lol. Plus, I have finals.

Check out my livejournal for news and fanart and more. If you need anything leave a message there, or e-mail me.

Enjoy, ya little buggers...

--

--

**October 1**

Death was pressed into the far corner when the first group arrived. The smallest ones ran straight to the bars, cherubic faces pushing farther to try and see past the gloomy shadows. The older ones stuck to the middle with the cameras and the bulb lights, inconspicuously glancing over the heads of the shorter ones.

Death was shivering. She clutched the tatters of her clothes around her and did her best to regain the warmth that fluxed in and out since Harry had left her. It came with scorching, symphonic delight then left her just as suddenly, taking more warmth than it had given.

Her face was beaded with cold sweat and the cell was filled with the echoing rasps of her halting breaths. She felt sick.

"Get away from there!" A woman in acid green robes was yanking the small children away from the bars.

An unintelligible roar was followed by a shriek and the kids all stumbled back against the bars of her cage. Death didn't move from her corner.

"I'm gonna _eat_ you!"

She could tell Colonel was the one bellowing. He liked to terrify anyone who came too near his cell. An all too familiar **zap!** filled the hall with the smell of smoking flesh and burning hair.

After the two some weeks she'd resided there, Death had learned to block out the writhing moans of agony as the brutal shocks subsided from the bodies of her prison companions. She would have just curled back up into the corner if it weren't for the chubby face staring at her somberly through the bars.

"Get...them out," she rasped loudly. She'd been practicing. Heads turned in the bright lights filling up the normally dim hall and stared at her in surprised interest.

"Do you have something to say, monster?" The acid-robed woman inquired, snootily.

Painfully, slowly, Death unfolded herself from the knot she'd made of her limbs and held up a callused hand to block the faint ribbons of light leaking into her corner. "Children shouldn't...be here."

"We're conditioning them to never become like the likes of you," another woman hissed, carefully maintaining her distance.

Death scowled and her cell was suddenly filled with light.

"Robert get away from there!"

She howled in pain, falling hard to the stone floor as she pressed her shaking, grimy fingers to her eyes to block out the retina-searing light. Her temples throbbed with the sudden onset of a headache and the reflexive tears leaked down the line of her face.

Shielding herself with the tattered remains of her robes, Death squinted at the women and children gathered around her cell. They were staring behind her. Horror making the cold sweat slither down her brow and the knots in her stomach tighten, Death looked up at the slime-strewn walls.

"_Merlin's beard..._"

The light flooded to every corner of the small room and the writing on the wall glowed stark white.

Death screamed.

"DON'T!" She shrieked and threw her body against the wall.

Pitifully she flung out her hands trying to block her painstaking work from sight, but there were too many walls. Eyes squeezed shut against the torturous flood light the chalk smeared beneath her desperate hands as her eyes watered.

"_STOP!_"

Flames erupted inside of her, screaming all the way from the floor to the very roots of her hair. Her sickness melted beneath the lava flow of pleasure flooding every nerve until her very sight burned through the light.

Glass shattered and everything went dark to the terrified screams of little children. Colonel roared, Blabber howled, and Death fell boneless to the merciful dark floor.

"We've lost the lights!" A man shouted.

"Children! Hurry – back to the entrance!" The voice of the acid-green robed woman echoed shrilly.

Death lay in a heap on the floor, content to just lie there basking in the rolling warmth. Like a drug, she'd become addicted to the escape and she craved it every moment it was gone. She was still lying in that same position when the shouts finally died away and one by one the torches flickered back to life down the long dark corridor.

An hour must have passed, but the rush never abated and Death never moved.

The heat completely took her over making things low in her body clench and the beating of her heart to accelerate its rhythm. She was panting, always panting, but the fire was burning her up inside and in some moments – when the euphoria of it was too great – she'd forget to breathe entirely. And only when darkness began to freeze the flames did she remember and large gasping breaths would echo into the hall.

Scarecrow was mumbling...it might have been to her – she couldn't tell. Something was happening outside. Something...

Through the heat something was nagging at her, crawling through the fire on its belly and becoming deeper and deeper engrained. Death focused in on that tiny feeling and the passionate waves rolled back, not enough to startle her, but enough that she was able to hold her eyes open.

She was facing the wall. That didn't help.

She might have whimpered at the sudden cold, but the more she focused on that little thought the more the heat settled into the background. She lifted her head off the cooling floor and her vision reeled for a moment at the sudden movement.

A tiny face was pressed to the bars of his cage.

Scarecrow was indeed talking, but it wasn't to her. She caught something that sounded like "dark magick" and "useful", but the roar of the fire was too strong in her ears. Despite the nausea it brought she shook her head fiercely to shake the noise from it and managed to pull herself to her knees.

Panting with the effort it took to fight the burning urge to lay back down, she nearly toppled over. Fingers digging into any purchase they could find on the slick stone, she swallowed her bile and looked up.

The child was staring at her. It was the same boy from the tour group.

"Who is she?" The voice of the young boy was hollow and even. Death shivered, hunched over and staring at the floor.

"POTTER'S SPY!" Blabber shrieked and it sounded like she was pounding on the wall that separated them.

The boy shot a contemptuous look to his left. "Shut up, Lestrange."

Death's eyes widened beneath the fringe of her bangs. _Lestrange_. She knew that name...

"_This_ is Hermione Granger?" The child looked unimpressed.

Gryffindor pride surging, Hermione scowled up at him, feral honey eyes peering out at him from beneath the torrent of her mahogany curls. Something he most have seen made him lean closer to the bars, dark eyes narrowing. After a moment he shook his head, disregarding his vision as a trick of the light.

"She's been all over the papers," he told Scarecrow. "They actually think _she_ is one of our Master's lieutenants."

Death's breath caught and she noticed a small detail hovering just outside the torch's light. Where the sleeves of his too-large robes had slipped down to the crooks of his elbows, just beneath the small fists gripping the bars of her cage, a snake infested skull glittered black.

_Skull._ She blinked. _Skull...means...Death Eater._ She stared at the kid. _Impossible._

"Got dark magicks she has!" Scarecrow insisted in a hushed whisper. "She made some kid appear out of thin air – and Potter come out of the bloomin' wall!"

"From the wall?" The child looked down on her with distaste as she slowly, _slowly_, put one hand in front of the other and crawled into the light. "I think you're a _fucking idiot._"

The boy turned away from her and backhanded Scarecrow through the bars. "Now get ready," the kid barked. "The Dark Lord wants this breakout to be remembered."

Death's fingers curled around the cool metal bars and she leaned her flushed forehead against them. Grunting with the effort, she screamed inside for the flames to die out and, hand-over-hand, hauled herself to shaking feet.

"Hmph," The boy snorted, and sharp fingernails pierced the skin of her hands. "So the Gryffindor bitch can stand."

The hair fell out of Death's eyes and she bared her teeth at him. His black eyes widened under her red-hot scowl and he took a step back. "What the he—"

"WHORE!" Blabber had been spurred on again. "TRAMP! CONCUBINE!"

The boy shoved off Death's bars with a growl of annoyance and actually stalked over to Blabber's cell. A loud **crack!** resounded into Death's cell as the boy's knuckles met with the flesh of Blabber's cheek.

"Shut...the _fuck_ up, Lestrange. I don't care if you're His favorite or not, I'll leave your ass."

_Lestrange..._

The memory was there, she could feel it. Every thing she'd loved had been sucked from her, but this...this memory held no happiness. She bit her lip 'til it bled. The congealing blood splattering against the stone was what brought the memory back to the surface.

_The Department of Mysteries..._

_..The Veil..._

_**SIRIUS!**_

"BELLATRIX!" Death yelled. The scuffling in the cell beside her ceased, and the only sound was of Death's heavy breaths.

The boy was suddenly in front of her again, moving as silently as the shadows that filled the prison. Tiny, cold fingers gripped her chin roughly and bent it painfully to expose her face to the light. Blood filled her mouth with the coppery taste of pennies, and the red trickling down her chin was what must have made him draw his hand back.

"Maybe your Boy Wonder will come and save you," he sneered.

The boy gave an enraged snarl as he wiped the blood and spit from his face. Death couldn't have moved if she wanted to, but just as he lifted a hand to strike her there was a nose from down the hall. Death watched the sadistic smile curve his baby lips and strained to hear.

It was the sound of children's voices.

"You're going...to kill them," Death wheezed.

Gripping the bars tightly, he got up on the tiptoes of his shined shoes and breathed foully right into her sweating face. "All. Hail. _Voldemort._"

Death shook with rage as the spittle dripped down her cheek and the heat rose in her clenched fists as the boy put on an eager face and skipped merrily down the hall to meet up with his group again.

A door opened from the opposite end of the hall and loud, crashing noises echoed down it. Death turned frantically to Scarecrow. He was hanging through the bars a maniacal look of eagerness on his face. The raid was here.

The Death Eaters were getting closer, she could hear their footsteps echoing on stone. As more racing feet were added to it, the rapidity increased until she was sure an entire swarm of Voldemort's forces was surging down the corridor to where the unsuspecting reporters were having the children pose for shots.

With all the strength she possessed, Death shook at the bars. Crying out in frustration she could not break free. "Please," she cried. "Give me strength!"

Thousands of miles away, where he'd been dozing on the common room couch, Sirius' eyes snapped open in surprise.

Fire exploded inside her and the roaring crackle of flames met the thunder of dozens of footsteps pounding in her head. Children were screaming.

The swarm was upon her and her hand snaked out with inhumane agility. She seized a man by the throat and lifted him straight off the ground. His comrades ran into his dangling legs and were knocked against the walls. Those that weren't freeing the nearby prisons stared in awe. Others continued their run down the hall.

"What the fu-"

Death tightened her grip and the man's eyes bulged.

"You must...stop this!" She insisted in a panic. The fire could no longer be contained to her body and the floor of her cell began to shake, the bars rattled, and dust rained down from the ceiling.

Somewhere down the hall, a little girl screamed.

She couldn't control the power. With a desperate scream the bars ripped right off their hinges and were blasted straight across the hall, and straight across the man she'd gripped between them. All four limbs were pinned against Scarecrow's empty cell and when gravity pulled the metallic wall down to the floor, the stumps fell on top of it with a thick, meaty sound.

While the Death Eater screamed, very much alive, Death retched against the wall. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she stepped over him and staggered down the hall on unsteady feet. He'd survive if he didn't bleed to death.

Each cell she stumbled past was empty, doors hanging wide open. Her bare feet slapped against the stones as she ran, picking up her pace off the burning floor. She skirted around a corner and careened headlong into black-robed bodies. Covering her head, she gave a cowering scream.

It was echoed by a half dozen shouts and when she opened her eyes the men were crumpled against the floor. More masked figures turned at the sudden disturbance, and Death's arm began to burn. She flung it outwards and a visible force rocked out against them, knocking the Death Eaters aside as if they were mere playthings.

"HELP!"

The children were being levitated into the air, crying as they were cruelly spun around and around. The reporters were being knocked about into one another and against the walls. They're wands had been taken by some of the escaped prisoners.

Sagging against the wall, Death looked up and met the frightened blue eyes of a tiny girl clutching to her blonde pigtails as she was almost dropped by the spell caster.

Death lost control.

With a snarl of pure rage she leapt into the fray with a fervor and a heat that she hadn't been capable of moments before. Her arms trailed behind her as she ran and with sickening cracks, the metallic cell doors ripped off their hinges. Fists swinging, she launched the weighty bars into the swarm of Death Eaters, beating a path through to the innocents.

Before they could get back onto their feet Death slid through and placed herself between Voldemort's forces and the levitating wizards and witches. "STOP THIS!" She yelled.

There was a spark behind her and the children began to fall. The flames inside her spiked and a large pink bubble engulfed everyone behind her, trapping them inside.

"Who the hell is she?!" A man demanded over the clamor.

Scarecrow was standing at the fore, a stolen wand gripped in his grimy fingers. His eyes were wide under the choppy fringe of his dishwater blonde hair. "That's _Death._"

"What can one girl do?" The boy hissed, standing between the blonde and a woman.

"Should've listened," Scarecrow hissed. "She ain't even got a wand."

The boy crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her, looking like a petulant child that was being annoyed by some broken toy. "_Kill her_."

A dozen green sparking killing curses came straight for her, and Death's knees bent, her fists by her head. The ground rumbled underfoot, and with an inarticulate scream she straightened, throwing her head back. The stone exploded upward in a spray of concrete and dirt, a wall of rock rocketing all the way up to the ceiling.

"Break it down!" She could hear the boy shouting, and she looked back over her shoulder at the people she was protecting. In the middle of the bubble, Rita Skeeter in her acid green robes stared back in disbelief.

"I won't...let them hurt you..." She promised, blood trickling down her cheek. The center of the wall exploded.

Death was knocked to the ground by the flying shrapnel, but the chunks of rock rebounded harmlessly off the great pink bubble keeping those inside safe. A pile shifted and stone clattered to the floor as Death surfaced. Her rage was peaking as the first masked attackers crawled through the hole, and with a ferocious snapping of her jaws she narrowed her eyes and they were thrown back.

Pushing off with a spike of adrenaline, she crossed her arms over her face and ran straight through the small hole, breaking a man-high tunnel through the middle of it. Whoever it was she came barreling into in a plume of dirt and dust met with her fists.

She'd been right after all...wizards weren't prepared to take a fist in the gut...

She punched upward with such an unbelievable strength that she lifted the Death Eater straight off the ground. Her left hand met the side of his face and he was slapped into the far wall. She caught a rushing man behind her in the face with her elbow and as the stream of blood arced through the air she fell into a crouch and kicked upwards at his kneecap sending his leg bending the complete opposite way.

The wall of rock behind her began patching itself together, blocking the fight from the sight of the children, and Death let the flames carry her through. She flipped onto her hands to avoid a curse and kicked at a woman before springing back onto her feet. Running at the wall she ran halfway up it to the ceiling before she somersaulted and landed with a furious roundhouse in the center of the pack.

She landed with such force that the stone dented beneath her bare feet. With a fierce cry she gripped at nothing and the muscles in her arms strained. The cell doors on either side of her were flung open. Like swatting a fly she swung one hand out and the nearest Death Eaters were sucked into the cell. She flicked out her other hand and the opposite side was thrown into their own cell. Each cage was filled to the brim with Death Eaters, but no matter how they pushed they could not get out of the tauntingly open doorway.

Hardly able to breath, Death called to the doors to shut and they did...locking the raiders and the prisoners inside.

The fire was dying, her arms up to the elbow were already numb. But with a wheeze the scent of burning leaves filled the enclosed space and the Death Eaters cried out as their wands dissolved to ash.

Her magic was dissolving as well – the wall behind her crumbling like the Tower of Babel.

She couldn't feel her arms at all now, and they hung lifelessly at her sides. Stumbling every step it was a wonder she made it back at all, but she did. There was the splatter of blood, and there was the unconscious torso and head – all that remained of the Death Eater.

Tripping over the bars on the floor she collapsed to the floor of her cell and was unable to get up. Her legs were useless now and the icy chill that came with every abandonment of the fire was spreading through her veins faster than the blood they carried.

Eyes rolling upwards she strained to look into the corner. "See..." she whispered. "I can still...help..."

Voices were shouting from the entrance; she hadn't really expected the battle to go unnoticed. Her eyes were only for Harry and Ron.

"_Don't forget_..."

The voices and footsteps stopped outside her cell, but Death's lashes had closed over the honey fire that was already fading from her eyes. She never saw them...the breath dying on her lips.


	19. XVIII Transformation ReTrial

**Completed:** 12/24/04 6:40 PM

**Posted:** 12/24/04 6:44 PM

A/N:I know it's short, but I got swamped by the Christmas fic, and my internet has been crapping out lately. So, I REALLY wanted to get something out for you. Will do my best for timing next chapter. Happy Christmas.

--

--

The large doors of Courtroom Ten opened to admit the long line of the Wizengamot. They filed in one by one and took their seats with an air of ominous silence swirling about them in the musty oxygen of the dankest courtroom of the Ministry. The last wizard through the door, motioned for them to be shut, and climbed the precarious stairs to the judge's stand, holding his long white beard up with his robes to keep them from dragging in the dirt and dust.

When he was settled, all eyes turned to him and he spoke loudly into the echoing room. "The Wizengamot has convened, on the first of October at exactly seven o'clock in the evening, London time, for the retrial of one Hermione Granger."

--

"GET MOVING!" James shouted as Sirius and Lily balked under Remus' weight and fell to the slick grass.

"We have eight minutes to get him in that tree!" Harry shouted sprinting up behind them. Slipping on the dewy grass, he scrambled to take Lily's place and together, he and Sirius heaved the half-unconscious boy to his feet.

James ran on ahead towards the violently swinging branches of the Whomping Willow in the distance, the two redheads of the group running after him. Leaning heavily on Lily's shoulder, Ron startled her with his shallow breaths. "It's coming soon, I can feel it."

They both looked back over their shoulders. Harry and Sirius were still a long ways from the tree, working to drag a moaning Remus between them as they half-stumbled, half-loped down the hillside.

"We're running out of time."

--

"What motive is there for calling this retrial?" An angered voice demanded from the far wall of the square courtroom.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the sound echoed off the high podium and around the room. "The events of today's raid on Azkaban prison brought into question the defendant's charge of allegiance to the Dark Lord. As the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I deem this as well as the original mistrial provocation enough to hold a retrial."

"You're not fit to preside over this trial, Dumbledore."

The white-haired wizard turned to the shorter podium beside him, where a young witch and her enchanted quill were recording the entire session. "My dear, will you please read the first motion of the pretrial?"

A shuffling as she rolled the long parchment back up to the top, and then her clear voice rang out as she read aloud. "First motion, presented by Senior Wizengamot Chair Holder, Christoph Jeuxbro. 'I motion Albus Dumbledore be returned to his customary post as Chief Warlock, to be reinstated upon the passing of this motion.'"

The owner of the angry voice scowled. Dumbledore gestured kindly for her to continue. "By a counting of the Lieutenant Warlock and a non-partisan participant, the motion passed with a unanimous vote."

"My apologies, Minister," Dumbledore said cordially. "But you are here as a bystander and nothing more. Let us begin."

--

James dodged a whipping branch and darted with experience to the trunk of the willow and prodded the magic knot at its base. The tree instantly froze as if hit with a _Locomoter _spell, and he ran back out to help Remus. Lily and Ron hurried on ahead and disappeared inside the passageway.

The last arc of the sun was holding above the horizon, casting the entire grounds in a blood red hue. It hung there as if doing its best to stave off the night to give the boys the time they needed. Grabbing Remus' legs, James hoisted them up and the trio were able to pick up their pace to the tree, carrying him between the three of them.

"What happened to this _Strength_ of yours, Padfoot?" Harry grumbled. Remus moaned in his delirious sleep and shook his head back and forth.

"I don't know," he panted back, trying to flick his long hair out of his eyes without dropping Moony. "I've been feeling tired all afternoon."

"Enough chitchat," James grunted. We've got less than two minutes before Remus here goes all furry on us."

--

"As the defendant is unable to attend her own hearing, I call the next witness – Ms. Rita Skeeter."

The doors opened once more to admit the entrance of the journalist, and she moved confidently up the dubious staircase and took her seat at the witness stand. Adjusting her sharp-looking, canary yellow robes, she stated her name to the court as she was instructed and waited patiently for the questioning.

"Ms. Skeeter." Dumbledore looked down patiently at her from his podium. "Can you please tell the court where you were at two o'clock this afternoon?"

Rita pushed her thin glasses higher up on her pointed nose and cleared her throat into the silence. "I was at Azkaban, working on the criminal prevention piece for the Prophet."

All eyes were on her.

"I saw _everything_..."

--

They dropped Remus through the hole, where Lily and Ron were ready to catch him, and followed quickly after. This time, Ron was left behind to help carry as Lily ran on ahead into the shack. The boys staggered in a few moments after and dropped the now spasming Remus onto the tattered bed.

"Geezus," James wheezed, leaning against the wall. "Moony could stand to lose some weight."

Fingernails bit into his skin and he winced. "What the he-"

Ron was staring into blank space, but a look of terror that wasn't his own contorted his face. "It's here."

James' eyes widened. "LILY!" He shouted.

"I've got it!" She cried, digging through the pockets of her robes. Remus arched against the bed and cried out. "Potion, potion, potion," she repeated desperately and her fingers closed around the sought after flask. "HERE!"

Wrenching out the stopper, she jumped onto the bed and tried to pour the frothing potion down her friend's throat. "Sirius! Hold him!" She rushed out.

The tallest boy pinned Remus' chest with his knees and fought to hold down his arms as he bucked and flailed wildly under the onslaught of the moon. He screamed as the transformation began to take hold and Lily took her chance. Holding up his chin with one hand, she dumped the flask's contents into his open mouth, pressing along his throat and forcing him to swallow.

With an enraged howl, Remus kicked Sirius up into the air and Lily was roughly backhanded against the far wall. Both she and Sirius fell to the creaking floorboards with a **CRASH!**

--

"Thank you, you may go now."

Rita nodded. She climbed down from the stand and was escorted by the two guards out into the hall. Once the doors had shut and the room was soundproofed once more, a wizard to the right stood – indicating the floor was his – and asked; "Were there any fatalities?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "There were none – from either side. The Death Eaters she fought off are under the Ministry's medical attention before they will be placed in Azkaban. The children and reporters sustained a few bumps and bruises, and have already been treated."

The man sat down and was replaced by the standing of a woman across the room. "What was their aim in the raid?"

Folding his hands into the long sleeves of his robes, Dumbledore pursed his lips. "Sources claim that the Dark Lord's followers had planned on the massacre of the Daily Prophet excursion, most likely to send the wizarding world into an outraged panic and to serve as a symbol of the Dark Lord's power. Their plan was to release the loyal prisoners, kill the reporters and children, and walk out."

The woman stayed standing. "And this plot was stopped by the defendant?"

"Yes."

"Single-handedly?"

"According to the testimony of Ms. Skeeter and others present, that is true," Dumbledore answered.

The woman sat down in flush of murmuring voices. One girl against scores of Death Eater? Impossible! Remarkable!

--

His robes ripped at the seams, popping stitches and tearing cloth. The moon was in the sky; he could feel it in his veins as his skin stretched and his bones shifted. Fur spilled out of his arms and spread out across his chest, his muscles rippled and burst what was left of his clothes.

James pulled Lily to him and hid her face in his shoulder.

The pain was stronger than he'd ever known, it clawed at his insides and burned him like a thousand hot pokers. He knew he must have been screaming but the blinding pain made it impossible to hear anything more than the pounding of his own heart. Bones cracked and broke mercilessly before fusing back together, contorting his body to its monthly shape.

Blood trickled from his mouth where the new fangs had jutted into the soft flesh of his tongue and cheek, and the crimson smeared across his cheek as he covered his face with his hands. Claws scratched thin lines across his face as he clumsily sought to hide his shifting face from his friends. Even in his delirium, he knew they were there.

The course hair sprouted between his fingers though he wished desperately for them to not, and his hands were pushed away by the lupine snout fusing from his nose and mouth. He couldn't think straight – the pain and exhaustion were working together to disorient and agitate.

With a hoarse howl, he stumbled off the bed, getting caught in the torn sheets.

James and Sirius stepped in front of the others, placing themselves in front of their werewolf friend as his transformation ended. As animagi they were more prepared to deal with a rampant lycan than the rest.

Harry and Ron had both their wands in hand and held up close to their faces; ready to petrify if worse came to worse. Lily pulled herself onto a decrepit crate behind them, and lifted her own wand – already muttering the words to a shielding charm. Just in case.

The werewolf reared back on its haunches and roared. Wand hands tightened. Wolf-amber eyes blinked slowly, taking in the five young wizards and witch, and muzzle dripping with drool and spit, the werewolf growled low and curled passively up on the floor.

The potion had worked.

--

"Please, denote your vote as white for 'innocent' and red for 'guilty'," Dumbledore instructed, and a hundred witches and wizards bent over their parchments.

Once the last had voted, the charmed parchments appeared on the desk of the young stenographer. Silence filled the room as she sorted them into two piles. When she was finished, she recorded the results with her enchanted quill and shuffled them back together before passing the ballots up to Dumbledore.

He too, sorted them. Each ballot was meticulously placed into the pile of its similar color. When the task was completed, he counted them once more – calm and unfazed by the hundred pairs of eyes upon him. Upon reaching his final total, he whispered the numbers to the young witch still waiting patiently beside his chair and she nodded before returning to her seat a few steps down the stairs.

Pulling her chair up to the bench, she rewetted the quill and set it loose to dance across the parchment. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"At 4:52 in the morning, on the second day of October, by a vote of eighty-seven to thirteen, Hermione Granger is awarded a full pardon of her crimes, however true they may be. This court is dismissed."

--

It was warm. Unbelievably warm.

She snuggled deeper and the rough linen of hospital sheets scratched her cheeks. She didn't open her eyes; no, it was too soon for that. She wanted to savor the feeling, the feeling of _sheets_ – even if they were coarse and stiff. They were warm, and the press of the mattress beneath her was enough to make her want to drift off again.

But she didn't. She couldn't. She wouldn't let herself. The moment was too precious to waste by sleep – what if she woke to the cold stone floor of Azkaban? Questing fingertips reached through the curls fanned out around her. They were silky and soft to the touch, and if she turned her head she could spell the flowery smell of shampoo. She was finally clean.

Her fingers curled around the cushion beneath her head, and she nearly cried. A pillow. A real, actual pillow. She'd forgotten what one felt like. She squeezed it tight.

There was a soft rustling a ways beside her, and someone else was moving beneath their own starchy sheets. Slowly unclenching her pillow, she allowed her eyes to finally open.

A few feet away, looking back at her, was Remus.

He'd rolled onto his side, knocking the sheets down to his waist, and the thought of such coldness made her sink all the way down to her chin. Bright honey eyes peeking above the fold of sheets she took in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the fresh pink lines across his cheeks, leftover from the transformation.

They met eyes and she didn't dare move.

"Hey..."

--

Aw, she's free – just in time for Christmas, lol.


	20. XVIX Reunited

A/N: Little later than promised, but I went out driving instead of working. Mah bad. And it's a lil shorter than usually, but it was a good stopping point. Hopefully next chapter up tomorrow.

**elveneyes3:** you're comments made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, until I realized that I've sort of abandoned that friendship that I wanted to keep going. So here's my beginnings at getting back on track. Thanks for the (even if it was unintentional) nudge and reminder.

**ducks-rule-world:** oh ho, no my friend. I believe Remus is _mine_. feeds him chocolate and pets sticks out tongue He wuvs me.

NOTE: Keep in consideration she has been in the Looney-Maker-Prison-Of-Hell for the past two and a half weeks. She's a little whoo-hoo in the head-head.

--

--

She flung back the covers and swung her legs over the side.

"Hermione?!"

She was at Hogwarts. And that meant Harry and Ron.

The stones were cold under her bare feet, and when she stood up, with the assistance of the side table, the cuffs off her oversized hospital pajamas bunched up in excess around her ankles and feet. Finding walking to be difficult in and of itself, the huge pajamas that dwarfed her bony, starved frame didn't make it any easier, but she managed that first step and then another.

"Hermione, stop!" Remus was struggling to get from under his own heavy comforters. He pushed at them ineffectually in his weakness before finally resorting to thrashing his legs about.

The muscles in her legs screamed from their earlier use, but she stumbled only once – catching herself on the food tray at the end of Remus' bed. It shook under her jarring weight and plates shattered against the floor. Poppy was bustling around back in the storage room and hadn't heard her.

She picked up her pace, crossing the wide open space before staggering into the doorframe. Panting heavily, she ignored the voice nagging at her, coaxing her to sleep, and took several deep breaths.

**THUMP!**

She glanced back over her shoulder. Remus' sheets had been knocked to the floor in a tangled, knotted heap and he was hunched over on the side of the bed gripping to the mattress and the metal headboard. He echoed her exhausted breaths.

She peered down the hall. Right or left? She racked her brain, but could only come up with a glaring white space in her mind where the directions to Gryffindor Tower should have been. She had a fifty-fifty chance of choosing right.

One hand pressed to the wall, she turned the corner and started down the hall to the right.

If they were going to send her back to Azkaban, then she wanted to see Harry and Ron one last time; and nothing, not even her own exhaustion, was going to stop her from reaching them.

The hall was cold and deserted, and she wasn't even sure what time it was. Even beneath the large, flannel bedclothes she was shivering. Finding herself short of breath, she stopped at the corner of the hall and leaned heavily on the ornate stone corner piece. Living in a six by six room certainly cut down on your stamina and exercise. Glancing back, she would have cursed if she'd had the breath. She'd only managed a dozen or so steps.

"Hermione!" Remus appeared in the Hospital doorway.

His own bare feet slapped against the stone floor as he followed her, guiding himself down the corridor with both of his hands trailing across the wall. He seemed to be having as much trouble as she in traversing the twelve paces it took to reach the corner. They truly were pathetic in their equally frail states.

She took a step to avoid him, but he'd caught up to her and grabbed a hold of her sleeve.

"Stop," she commanded, in a voice that was anything but. It was pitiful and frightened.

"You have to...rest," he wheezed. He grabbed her shoulders, not to stop her but to hold himself up.

"Harry," she insisted desperately. "Harry, Harry, Harry..." She repeated it again and again even as she moved with groggy movements to escape the boy who would try to detain her. They staggered together and the corridor spun.

Disoriented, she flailed her hand to find the wall and groped for some sort of purchase. She made to move her feet, but found she couldn't. For once in her life, her body had failed her – it was shutting down even as she stood with Remus clinging to the thick sleeves of her pajamas.

"Come...back," he whispered and tugged at her with all the strength of a newborn.

She swayed on the spot, unable to connect the need to move her feet with the muscles in her legs, then pitched forward onto the unprepared Remus. He held her for a second or two, but then they both toppled the floor. They lay panting beside one another – Remus' head beside her feet – and neither one could find the strength to get up.

Cold sweat trickled down Remus' back and soaked into his hospital-issue night clothes. The floor was hard and cold, and nothing at all suitable for a place to sleep on, but his body seemed to want to do nothing but.

"Can't...get up." And from the looks of it neither could Hermione.

She hiccupped loudly, but choked back the second in an odd strangled sound. Remus shifted and turned to look at her. Her hands had fallen on either side of her face and her shaking form brushed the curls that had splayed around her head like a sepia halo across her fingertips. There was another choked back hiccup, but this time he recognized it for what it was; a sob.

Hermione was crying. Fat saline tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes and ran down her temples in shining trails that disappeared into the mound of curls cushioned beneath her. "Harry," she rasped, through trembling pale lips. She was so _tired_.

Every few seconds, at particularly desperate sobs, her chest would arch a half inch off the ground, but she didn't have the energy to go any farther and would come crashing back against the stone.

But eventually the vain attempts stopped all together and her sobs turned to staggering breaths. Remus just laid there and watched as the tears finally stopped, her eyes fluttered closed, and sleep took her.

Then he too closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by her soft and steady breathing.

--

She didn't know how long she was out, but when she was roused again by shouting voices the warm, scratchy sheets were back.

"I want to see her!"

"Get out of the way, Pomfrey!"

_Harry...Ron..._

"She needs to rest—"

"RON! HARRY!" She shouted, her sleep-stuck eyes snapping open. She could see them just out of the corner of her eye. They were trying to push past a stubborn Pomfrey.

She tried to sit up, but something kept her from doing so. She jerked her legs mercilessly, but they slammed into an unyielding barrier. Her arms were no exception. Ron and Harry were trying to climb right over the mediwitch – so close, and yet, she could not reach them. She was starting to panic.

"HARRY!" She wailed, voice gone shrill. Desperately, she continued to wrench against her restraints, yanking, twisting, and writhing to break herself free.

"Hermione!"

There was a loud **CRASH!** as Pomfrey staggered back into one of the Infirmary's changing screens.

Her scream for Ron stretched and warped into something that was inarticulate but filled with terror and panic. Screaming and thrashing mindlessly now, the two boys tried to get her to stop before she inflicted even further damage on herself.

"Hermione!" Harry tried to shout over her screams. "They had to restrain you so you would rest!"

Both he and Ron, were pressing her shoulders down into the bed to stop her frenzied movement, but her adrenaline-spiked hysteria gave her a strength that rivaled both of theirs combined.

"Pomfrey! Unlock her!" Harry shouted, but Poppy apparently wasn't moving fast enough for him because his wand was suddenly in hand.

The metal cuffs snapped open and slithered underneath the bed. Finally ending her shrieks, Hermione flung herself at Ron and he stumbled back under the sudden onslaught. The bonds on her legs were the next to go and her body slid entirely off the rumpled cot, and she and Ron crashed to the floor.

"Oh, Ron," she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck in a crushing embrace.

For a long time he didn't even try to get up from their sprawled position, unable to do anything more than hold her tight as she cried into his shoulder. Their grips were painful, but comforting. Two and half weeks. It had been two and half weeks since Hermione had been taken, and they weren't about to let each other go.

Sniffing loudly, and brusquely wiping his wet eyes on the thick flannel of her shirt, Ron got them both into a sitting position; though, Hermione refused to release the viselike grip around his neck.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice was gentle, though it cracked at her name. He touched her shoulder, and that was all it took for her to divert herself to him.

Grabbing great fistfuls of his shirt, she yanked him clumsily but determinedly towards them. He was yanked out of his crouching position and toppled unceremoniously over them both, but neither seemed to care. Keeping an arm around Ron's shoulders and a hand on his neck, she held Harry against her with handful of tie and shirt, while his arms locked around her back above Ron's. The three of them huddled together there on the cold stone floor of the Infirmary as if the end of the world itself had come; Hermione's teary face pressed into their touching shoulders.

Madame Pomfrey stood just outside of the scene, the recently arrived Dumbledore at her side. The watched the emotional exchange, feeling oddly out of place – as if, though occurring in the middle of the Hospital Wing, the reunion was a private affair.

"Don't let them take me," Hermione whispered, so beseechingly both boys tightened their grip on her. "I don't want to go back."

"Ssh, Hermione," Harry whispered into her hair. There was a lump in his throat, and it took a moment of rubbing her back, before he was able to finish his promise. "We won't let them take you. _Not ever_."

"I don't want...to be brave anymore," she choked into Ron's neck, voice hitching and her breath running short. "I can't..."

Ron pressed his lips her temple and tasted saline. He rocked her between him and Harry and brushed the hair back from her face. 'You don't have to, Hermione. Harry and I will be brave for you."

Hermione's tears subsided. The world around her was bright and disorienting, but Harry and Ron would keep her safe. Their beating hearts beneath her hands was a real and tangible feeling that she held on to, even as Harry's peppermint smell surrounded her and Ron's warm lips against her forehead grounded her.

"Miss Granger..."

Hermione shot back like a rocket. Slipping on the stone and tripping over the legs of her friends, she found herself sprawled against her cot's bedside table. She pulled her knees to her chest in an attempt to become as small as she could and painfully pressed her body into the corner made by the bedframe and the table. The light was suddenly too bright and she squeezed her eyes shut, holding an arm out above her as if preparing to ward off a blow.

Harry and Ron were both on their feet and glaring accusingly at their Headmaster, who had wisely remained standing in the doorway. Whimpering and mewling, Hermione tried to slip herself beneath the sanctuary of the cot and probably would have done so if Ron hadn't gone to her and coaxed her out.

Slowly she was helped onto her feet, but she wrapped her arms around one of Ron's as if she wasn't able to stand on her own. Sniffling back the tears that had started up again at her fright, Hermione pressed the line of her body against Ron's so that she all but disappeared behind the tall boy. She was shaking.

"Hermione..." the old man said gently. "It's Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore – your Headmaster."

One honeysuckle eye peered around Ron's shoulder, half hidden by a flurried bush of curls. "Dum...bly...dore," she repeated the name haltingly and in a muffle through Ron's robes, rolling it around on her tongue.

It tasted familiar.

The tense grip on his sleeve lessened, and Ron turned in disbelief to see Hermione emerge from behind him – gaunt face curiously puzzled. With purposeful steps she moved towards the door, eventually dropping his sleeve all together when she went beyond reach.

"Hermione." He reached for her and she let him touch her because she'd been too long gone without them to pull away. With his hand under her elbow, she leaned back into him for as long as to take a breath, feeling as if the air around him would have a purer taste than the rest.

This time, when she moved away, he didn't call her back. He and Harry both shared an incredulous look that went unnoticed by Hermione, who was slowly progressing towards Dumbledore, one hand trailing bracingly across the bed.

She stumbled when she passed the end of the cot and had to twist to fall back against the support of her food table. It rattled and shook with empty potion bottles. Gripping hard to the table, she looked up at the white-headed wizard with deep amber eyes.

"I could come to you, if you would like," he suggested slowly.

She jerked her head in a nod.

Dumbledore unfolded his arms from his sleeves and hung them down at his sides, where they would be the most reassuring. His lips were drawn into a thin line as he started unhurriedly towards her, and his wizened face had never looked either so grave or pensieve.

He stopped. Just within arms reach of her, he waited.

Reaching out with one lean hand, she grabbed the front of his robes and used the purchase to pull herself upright onto unsteady legs. To the old wizard's credit, he neither staggered nor bulked under her sudden pull. To _her_ credit, she released him as soon as she was standing, and under her own strength began to circle him.

Harry and Ron stood side by side where she'd left them. Neither spoke. Madame Pomfrey had taken a step back into the room, but had stopped there for fear of startling the young girl again. Instead, she held a ragged handkerchief to her chin in a fist and waited with bated breath for the scene before her to confirm her fears or refute them.

When Hermione returned to the front her lips were paled to near white and her hands were shaking. Dumbledore closed his eyes, despair filling him at the absence of recognition in her haunted face.

A small hand touched his face. It stuck in his beard then moved to his cheek and was joined by its mate on the other side. Icy fingers touched his forehead, his nose, his ears. Then he felt his glasses shift, the wire sliding off his face, and he opened his eyes.

Hermione was holding his half-moon spectacles a few inches from his face. They were still high enough that he could see her properly through them, and what he saw was her faze scrunched up in thought. Her eyes were locked on his, moving back and forth as they searched for something familiar in them.

"Dumble...dore..."

Her face widened with a soft 'oh' of surprise, and then everything for the old wizard went fuzzy and he barely managed to catch the golden glasses she'd dropped in her shock. And then she was falling against him, hands pressed against her tearing eyes.

He put an arm around her and placed a worn hand on the back of her head. Relief filled him up inside and he smiled for what may have been the first time in half a month. "You're stronger than you know," he told her, letting her cry into his robes. _I knew they could not break you..._

Pomfrey crossed the room, but maintained a goodly distance from Hermione. "She needs to rest some more, Albus," she murmured in a kinder voice than Ron and Harry had ever heard her use.

"C-Cold," Hermione chattered, and they realized she was shivering.

Harry came to lead her back to bed and his warm proximity was enough to keep her teeth from rattling in her jaw. Like a tiny child, she silently allowed him to put her to bed and tuck her in. She didn't even protest when he pulled the covers all the way up to her chin. It was warm, and they were sheets, and she didn't mind.

When he was done fussing, Dumbledore came to sit on the edge of her heavily blanketed cot. The boys kept away from him. Dumbledore may have played a small hand in freeing Hermione, but the fact of the matter was – she shouldn't have been there in the first place, and nothing Dumbledore did could completely rectify that.

"Hermione, you are still recovering from your ordeal and I think it would be best if you didn't see anyone for a few days," he explained in the same soft tone.

Her brow immediately furrowed and she looked plaintively to her friends. Dumbledore caught the look and patted her knee reassuringly. "Except for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, of course."

"Oh...kay," she agreed.

"Too many faces and sights at once might prove too stressful until you've..._readjusted_," he reasoned. "We'll see if you're ready for class again after a week."

She nodded.

"Does that sound alright?"

She nodded again.

Dumbledore left the Infirmary, and Pomfrey bustled off to her office to give the trio privacy. They each took a side of her bed and she wormed her arms out of the covers to hold their hands. "I've missed you...terribly," she whispered and was answered with a squeeze from both sides.

"We missed you too, Hermione," Ron said, placing his other hand over hers.

"We never stopped looking for a way to get you out," Harry swore and the words brought a joyous smile to her face, however tired it might look.

"I-"

"Shh," Harry hushed, brushing the hair back from her face. "Go to sleep."

Ron thumbed her hand soothingly. "We'll be here when you wake up," he promised.

Hermione squeezed both their hands tightly before falling asleep.


	21. XX Forgetfulness and Knowing

**Completed:** 12/31/04 5:03 PM

**Posted:** 12/31/04 8:01 PM

A/N: Woah buddy, kinda took me a while. But what better to do on New Year's Eve?

--

She only lasted four of the seven days before the warm and cozy Infirmary became claustrophobic and her forced restfulness turned to unquenchable restlessness; it reminded her too much of the stone confines of her prison. And so it was, that after an hour of anxious wakefulness on the fifth day, Hermione decided to leave the Hospital Wing.

Leaving a note on her unmade bed, she moved to transfigure the hospital pajamas into robes before she remembered that her wand was gone. She hadn't needed it before now and the sudden realization of its absence made her chest ache.

They'd snapped her wand.

She knew it as surely as if one of her limbs had been severed. It was one of the worst consequences that could befall a witch a wizard. Her fingers curled and uncurled as she stared at her right hand. It sat limply on her lap, looking pale and naked without the comforting vine wood to grasp.

There was nothing for it. She'd have to go to Gryffindor Tower.

Sitting down at the edge of her bed, she pulled from her deep pajama bottoms a worn piece of parchment. She unfolded it to watch the footsteps and curling labels moving down hallways and climbing the moving staircases. She understood now why Harry and Ron had kept it encharmed. It wasn't that they "trusted her to keep it safe" as they'd said. Without a wand, Hermione had no way of activating the Marauder's Map.

Harry and Ron had brought it the first day, hoping that it would stimulate a memory flood. And it _had _produced a tiny trickle of remembrance; though, of the most obscure kind.

She remembered Filch, the Whomping Willow, and a third floor broom closet in which she'd hidden from a patrolling Snape during their fourth year. Her surfacing memories were random and odd at best, with a disjointed pattern that was mind boggling at times.

She found the bare foot markings labeled 'Hermione Granger' and navigated a path with her finger through the inked hallways to the circle marked 'Gryffindor Tower'. There was no possible way for her to get lost if she knew exactly where she was and exactly where she was going, and everything in between.

Her thoughts wandered as she shuffled out into the empty hallway.

She remembered Harry and Ron expressing concerns over her "selective amnesia" to Dumbledore on one of his visits. He'd explained that it wasn't uncommon for a person who's been placed under a great deal of trauma and stress at a single point to sustain any number of mental complications. Honestly, it sounded a lot worse than it was.

She just couldn't recall things quite as well as she'd used to, that's all. It wasn't so much that she'd _forgotten_; no, it was more as if the knowledge was simply out of reach. Like an ornery cat it scurried under the bed and snapped at her when she tried to grab at it.

She'd pushed all conscious thought and memory to the back of her mind in Azkaban because that was the only way to survive. The farther back she let them recede, the less the Dementors could have accessed easily. A shadow passed through her at the thought of the haunting guards and she stumbled in her steps. She mustn't think of such things. There were things far better...Harry and Ron, for example.

Harry. Ron. She'd recalled them most clearly, because she'd simply refused to forget them.

She stopped within an empty intersection when her choices were to carry on straight a head or take either path on the sides. She consulted the map and it guided her left before she replaced it in her deep pajama pockets.

She trailed a hand along the stone wall and it slid in the dust and over portraits; once causing an old wizard to giggle like a school girl as her fingers dragged ticklingly over his legs. The walls were smooth, and dry, and warm – they were walls she remembered and her hand caressed it distantly, as a lover would.

She hated not remembering things, but Dumbledore had promised her that it would pass in time, especially with such friends as she had. He'd said it in such a way that Hermione had thought he'd meant more than just Harry and Ron and that puzzled her. Did she have other friends? She knew names...they were all there. It was the putting them to faces that gave her trouble, and being simply names she knew not what sort of person they belonged to. Frustrating to say the least.

What she ached for most though, was a wand. Unlike the rest of her memories, every spell, every charm she'd ever learned was still rooted stubbornly in her mind as clear as the day she'd learned them. Her hands veritably itched to cast just one, but without a wand it was fruitless. There were so many that came to her mind now as she thought on it, and surely one of them must be able to cure this awful mess.

"Hermione, dear! I didn't know you were out of bed!"

Hermione looked up in surprise at a fat lady in a bright pink dress goggling at her from a large portrait frame. Pulling the map free once more, she found her own footprints standing just outside Gryffindor Tower.

"Uh...hello," she said lamely.

"Hello, yourself!" The plump woman replied. "Walking round the castle in your bloomers at this early hour. Come now, let's hear the password and we can get you inside and dressed properly."

Hermione paled. "Password?" she said flabbergasted. "I don't know any password."

The portrait looked torn. "I'm sorry, dear," she apologized. "But I can't let anyone in without the password. It's against school rules."

Hermione groaned and sagged against the wall. At least she wasn't stuck in the Hospital Wing anymore.

"Why don't you ask this young fellow?"

Hermione opened her eyes as she looked up. A blond boy, third year by the looks of him, was standing rigidly at the entrance of the corridor. He was staring at her with eyes as wide as tea saucers, and for a moment Hermione felt like saying 'I have no idea who the hell you are'.

"Hello," she said, and she was surprised to find her voice rather skittish. Maybe she wasn't as comfortable around people as she'd thought this morning. Almost wishing that he wouldn't come any closer, she went on. "I seem to have forgotten the password."

She must have looked a sight: back pressed against the wall, hair frizzed, and in rumpled, too-big pajamas. She knew she was too thin – starvation would do that to you – and the mere thought of food made her stomach rumble. The Infirmary meals hadn't been kind.

"Can you, um, help?" As soon as she moved to lift herself off the wall, the young boy squeaked and tore off back down the hallway.

"Don't mind him, dear," the portrait drew her attention back. "Most of the students don't know what to think."

With that cryptic comment making her brow cinch, Hermione studied the map a moment in the half-silence of the fidgeting fat lady before starting down the corridor the boy had gone down.

"Where are you going?" The woman of Gryffindor Tower called.

"The Great Hall," she answered, clutching her pained stomach as she walked. "I'm hungry."

"Hermione! I don't think that's wise—" But Hermione had already started down the stairs, bony hands clutching the banister and bare feet slapping on the stone.

She'd had no wand to give herself robes and the trip to the Tower had proved wholly unrewarding. She did, however, sport an awfully terrible hunger that had seen fit to stir itself again at the slightest thought of food. And so it found her that she was navigating her way down to the Great Hall where it seemed they were engaging in a meal. By the looks of the misty grounds she caught in the high windows she assumed it was breakfast.

When she got closer, she checked the map again and found Harry and Ron at the far end of the table labeled 'Gryffindor' within the long rectangle of the Great Hall. Peering at the inked spot as she walked she got this strange sense of 'knowing'. With surety the feeling told her that was her place – there, at the end of the table.

She found she rather liked the feeling.

The rest of her journey was uneventful, meeting no one in the bright halls but an assortment of intriguing paintings, and when she stood at last in front of the great oak doors, feeling a little less sure and a great deal more tired, she entertained the briefest moments of doubt before pushing one of the doors open enough so that she could slip through.

Silence spread through the vast hall like a wave until it sounded as if no one was daring to breathe.

So many people were staring at her and she felt their gazes as if they were a solid, tangible weight pressing down on her shoulders. Just the sight of so many unrecognizable faces made her own breath come short. She'd recovered from her initial habit of maniacally fleeing at every sudden sound, sight, or face since that first day, but standing there in a vortex of unfamiliarity, her crème colored pajamas with their childish teddy bears standing out in stark contrast to the dreary black and gray costumes of the other students, she felt faint.

Dumbledore was standing – she hadn't seen him get up. "Attention," he called as if anyone's mind was anywhere else. "Let us all welcome back Miss Hermione Granger, who, it seems, has stubbornly refused to remain abed when there's schoolwork to be done."

A few weak chuckles at this.

"I expect you all to treat her with kindness and understanding in this difficult transition," he warned. "The mistrial was a terrible thing and you should all do your very best to ensure her successful readjustment to our fine school."

Harry and Ron were both already on the feet and practically running to the petrified Hermione as Dumbledore finished his speech by insisting "let's not sit here with our tummies rumbling. A good breakfast is just the thing for a day of learning." The pair converged on their third member, swooping protectively to either side and with arms around her shoulders and hands holding hers they led her to the Gryffindor table.

The silence hadn't let up, and Hermione's legs felt like lead. Dumbledore alone was the only one to be eating his eggs and it seemed in a forced desperation as if shoveling his breakfast could encourage his students to do so as well. She felt suddenly as if all the hunger in the world couldn't be worth this emotional stress.

Barely aware that she was shaking like a leaf, she allowed Harry to sit her on the bench between him and Ron like a pose-able doll. Ron transfigured her into a fresh set of uniforms and the outer robe he conjured seemed a bit heavier to that odd 'knowing' sense, though she couldn't honestly remember what the ensemble had felt like. He must have noticed her trembling.

"Jesus, Hermione," Harry was talking in a hushed voice. "You shouldn't have wandered."

She wanted to cry and hated it. Even if she couldn't exactly recall, she'd have liked to think of herself as someone who wasn't so weepy. "I had the map," she whimpered feebly, hand convulsing on the worn parchment.

"Oh, 'Mione, he didn't mean it like that," Ron insisted lowly, rubbing her back. "We just worry."

"Don't call me that," she whispered suddenly, and when looked at her eyes were oddly glazed. "You know I hate it so."

For the briefest of moments...she sounded exactly like her old self.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL GOGGLING AT!?"

Hermione nearly jumped straight out of her skin at the shout from across the table, but was only more surprised by the sudden roar of conversation that arose in the great hall immediately preceding it. The boy who had shouted, she noted, had long black hair that looked, quite honestly, a marvel to touch and deep blue eyes.

"Hermione..." Harry was looking at her, emerald eyes filled with meaning. It was the same old question that now brought a sigh to her lips. _Do you remember?_

"Give me a moment," she asked quietly.

"A moment for what?" Questioned a boy beside the first that looked so much like Harry she couldn't help staring for a moment.

Ron opened his mouth and she knew he was going to try and explain, so she furiously shook her head. Heeding her command, he closed it again and silently turned to his pancakes now soggy in their syrup from neglect. If these truly were friends of hers, she didn't want them to be insulted that she had no idea who they were.

The flame-haired girl looked at her kindly, and beside her was a rather pale, brunette boy. "The boy from the Infirmary..." she murmured on a breath of air. The boy cocked his head and stared at her oddly, and she feared he might have heard.

Harry and Ron both pressed themselves tightly against her sides and they almost succeeded in quelling the tremors she couldn't seem to shake. Clearing her throat, she lowered her head and looked down at the crumpled map spread out in the lap of her pleated skirt. _Sirius. James. Lily. Remus._ She repeated the names to herself, but nothing about them seemed to stick.

Folding the map up in a crinkle of parchment she shoved it into her robe pocket and gingerly lifted her fork. It was an odd thing indeed and one far from her use the past two and half weeks. She twirled it slowly, testing the dexterity of her fingers, and finding the apt concentration it required adequate enough to calm her nerves.

One of the boys was muttering something about "not being allowed to visit her" and she found herself nodding dumbly, setting the fork back down in its place.

"You should eat, Hermione. You're all skin and bones," the redhead – Lily – insisted, pushing a plate of sausage towards her.

And all of Hermione's ravenous hunger came rushing back to her. With a ferocity that made her friends drop their own forks in surprise, Hermione grabbed every sort of food in sight, scarcely waiting for them to touch the golden plate before shoving it into her mouth. She ate as if she'd never have food again.

They stared at her; jaws dropped, and wondered how she was able to breathe. Hermione wasn't sure half of what she was eating, but being so accessible she wasn't about to let it go to waste. Even when she thought her stomach was going to burst, she ate; remembering the taste of hot bacon and toast.

"Are you going to eat that?" She asked through a mouthful of biscuit and jabbed at one of the black haired boys' plates. Wide-eyed he wordlessly handed over the last half of his omelet and Hermione finished it in two large bites.

"Hermione...maybe you should slow down," Ron suggested, patting her shoulder awkwardly, as she was hunched over her plate.

She shook her bushy head furiously. "Sirius, pass the gravy?"

The brunette gave her an odd look, but complied with her request. Snatching up the small pewter pitcher, Hermione didn't hesitate to douse her entire plate with the rich smelling gravy. She missed the looks exchanged by the boys and girl across from her.

"Mmm," she moaned after a particularly syrupy bite of waffle. "Do you have any idea how _good_ food is?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I can see that." He actually reached around to hold her frizzy hair back from her face as she devoured half the Gryffindor table.

"Thanks," she burped into her napkin.

"Ron's right, eating so much probably isn't good for you," the boy directly opposite her said gently – the one who looked like Harry.

"Nonsense...Remus," she added confidently after a moment's hesitation. His brow immediately furrowed and she knew. She'd gotten it wrong. _Shit._

She swallowed slowly, aware of the sudden silence that, though not particularly threatening, wasn't one of amiable comfort. Frantically trying to think of an excuse, she opened her mouth to lamely blow it off as tiredness when a twisting sensation crawled up her throat.

Her fork dropped with a clatter onto the edge of her plate and the prongs slid into her syrup and gravy.

"Hermione?" Harry touched the back of her hand in concern, but the other flew to her mouth.

"Oh god," she choked, gagging. "_I think I'm gonna be sick_."

Jumping to her feet, she stumbled over the bench and sprinted out of the Great Hall. Harry and Ron were both on their feet to follow after when a voice stopped them.

"She doesn't remember us...does she?"

Harry stared right into Remus' deep gray eyes and knew there wasn't a lie that would fool him. And what was the point, when the lycan already knew truth?

"She doesn't know where she's going," he murmured excusing himself; and under the watchful eyes of the other diners he and Ron hurried after their best friend.

--

They found Hermione in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Oh, it's just awful," the bespectacled specter trilled gleefully when they entered. "Just wait 'til you see!"

Ignoring the ghost, Harry and Ron both dodged quickly around her – much to the dead girl's disappointment. The third cubicle door was ajar, and Ron slowly pushed it open. Hermione was hunched over the porcelain bowl choking, sputtering, gagging, and choking again.

"How inconsiderate, don't you think, Harry?" Myrtle crowed, floating over them. "She's just lucky that wasn't _my_ toilet."

Trusting Harry to deal with his persistently crushing ghost, Ron conjured a cool towel and pressed it to Hermione's sweating face. Recalling his own bouts of flu when he was younger, he rubbed her back comfortingly as his mother had done to him and murmured nonsensical words. Their content wasn't as important, so much as the soothing tone.

After a moment another solid presence was crouched down beside him, hands going up to hold Hermione's hair back from the risk of hanging into the toilet bowl. Harry murmured to Ron something about telling Myrtle to "shove off" and then their attentions were back to focusing on Hermione.

They waited patiently for her to finish her retching and when there was nothing left in her but dry heaves, Harry reached over her head to flush the bowl and Ron guided her away from her hunched position and leaned her back against the cubicle wall. Her eyes were closed and her wild hair was covering the most explicit of the wall's graffiti while Ron ran a corner of the washcloth over her flushed face.

"That feels good," she mumbled, tilting her head towards him unconsciously.

He blushed. "Just what my mum always did for me."

"I'm sorry." She groaned suddenly and rubbed at her head. "I'm such a bother. You're both being terribly nice to me even though I'm acting a total ponce."

Harry laughed and she opened her eyes. "Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far," he teased lightly. She smiled faintly. "Besides – it's about time we took care of you, no?"

Hermione took the rag from Ron and used it wipe her mouth before she smiled again. "Could either of you conjure me a glass of water?"

Harry complied readily, adding that her breath _was_ pretty "rank". Swishing the water around in her mouth she spit several times into the toilet bowl then swallowed the last gulp of water from the glass. Letting them help her to her feet, Hermione let herself lean heavily on their supporting arms.

"You know the food _was _coming back in five hours, right?" Ron jokingly reminded her.

She shared with them a wane smile. "It was worth it," she said definitively as they walked out into the hall.

The expressions each boy wore both darkened at this, and Hermione noticing, sought to turn the subject to something less anger-filled and saddening. "So..." she started. "What class do we have first?"

"_We_ have double potions," Harry corrected. "_You_ are going back to bed."

"No."

"This isn't debatable," Harry told her, doing quite a good McGonagall impression by looking down his glasses at her.

"You're right, I'm going with you and that's that." Fumbling the map out of her pocket, she glanced down at it and started off towards the dungeons.

"Why does she have to be so stubborn?" Ron groaned before the two jogged after their friend. They seemed to always be chasing her lately.

"She gets it from you," Harry grumbled from Hermione's left.

"Me?! Hardly!" Ron exclaimed from her right. "If anything I'm the _good_ influence."

"Tsk," Hermione interrupted. "You'd both have been expelled long ago if it weren't for _me_."

"And you'd be buried under a mound of books without _us_," Ron shot back, descending into the cold, drafty halls of Hogwarts' lower levels.

They entered the Potion's classroom together, mindful of the murmuring whispers that followed, and moved to their customary table at the back of the room. Hermione couldn't help the slight jittery-ness that encompassed her at the flood of unrecognizable faces around her. Harry's hand on her elbow was a small comfort. They'd just begun to sit, when, in his customary billow of black robes, Professor Snape stalked up to their table.

"What is the meaning of this, Potter? Weasley?"

Hermione glanced at her scowling friends with something akin to surprise. Fidgeting with the hem of her thick outer robes she turned back to the Potion's Master who was leaning over their desk with an unattractive sneer.

She smiled, a bit too brightly for the circumstances, and greeted the surly man in front of her. "Good morning, Professor..."

"Snape," Harry supplied darkly.

"...Snape," she finished warmly. Harry groaned, Ron ran a hand over his face, and Professor Snape looked quite appalled.

"I will not tolerate some hospital patient who is unable to remember names, much less how to properly brew a potion," he spat.

_Snape._ Hermione closed an ear to the outraged protests of her friends beside her, and tried to think back. _Snape...Lily...Lily had said something...about Snape._ _Damnit! Why couldn't she remember?!_

"Excuse yourself from my class, Miss Granger, or it will be ten points from Gryf—"

"Please, sir!" Her next words came rapidly, before the startled look upon his face could be replaced by another sneer. "Potions is the only class I'm able to do without a wand. Please, let me stay. If I had a phoenix feather I could finish it faster and be out of your way – but I'll just do it and be done with it. I won't say a word or anything, I promise!"

Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know about the effects of a phoenix feather on an Illusionment Potion?"

She didn't.

She just..._knew._ It was that odd sense of 'knowing' again, like already seeing the ending of a book just by reading the first page. Knowing that Evan and Katharine would eventually get together, despite their stubbornness; that the most important scenes wouldn't come until the sequel; or that the bad guy would get caught by a little old lady in tartan slippers and a red handbag. Hermione's mouth opened, but dry lips could not form the sentences to explain the red handbag or the 'knowing' feeling.

_Words_ failed her.

"I-I...I don't – I just..."

"Miss Granger. What would happen if I added armadillo bile to an Aging Potion?"

"The drinker would regress in age, rather than _pro_gress," she answered automatically. Then she frowned, wondering where the words had come from.

From behind her, Ron whispered "I didn't know that."

"Shut up, she's remembering." That was Harry.

She was just about to tell them 'no, she wasn't' when Snape asked another question.

"What are the ingredients to a Reanimation Potion?"

"One Unicorn Horn, a talon of Chinese Fireball claws, a pinch of common table salt, and thirteen leaves of deadly nightshade. When picked at exactly midnight, the body has a greater chance of remaining animated for _over _the original forty eight hour allotment."

The class was staring at her now, and some of the students still stood in the doorway. "_Bodies_?" they murmured in hushed voices. Several seats up a blonde haired Gryffindor girl looked like she was about to be sick.

Snape gripped her arm tightly, leaning so far over the desk their faces were only inches apart. "That is no simple Potion, Granger. It is of the most illegal and Unforgivable kind – how do you know of it?" He demanded, voice too low for others to hear.

Hermione blinked back tears. "_I-I don't know_," she whimpered, his spindly fingers tightening around her upper arm.

"No one is to leave this class until I have returned," Snape bellowed. Hermione was dragged from behind the desk despite Harry and Ron's attempts to hold on to her.

Chairs were knocked over as she struggled to keep up with Snape's long strides and Gryffindors and Slytherins alike jumped out of the way of the odd procession. "Dumbledore must be informed," he hissed, and yanked Hermione out the door.

--

**Next chapter:** Meeting with Dumbledore, something else – try to get a bit of romance in it.

**Chapter after: **Definite romance – hold on to your shorts.

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!


	22. XXI Magic Realized

**Completed:** 1/8/04 8:01 PM

**Posted: **1/8/04 8:10 PM

_Author's Note:_ Wow…it's been a little over a week. I think that might be the longest I've ever gone for this particular story. I'm afraid to say this might not be the last either. School is back in session and, though I'll try my best to keep up the tight schedule my teachers can _on occasion_ be a rather pain.

_Writing Note:_ I'm also working on a Draco x Hermione ficlet for a good friend of mine – it's her birthday present. January 10th. I'm hoping to crack down and finish it for her that day, so I don't know if there'll be time for TR until after that. I'm also doing a Harry x Hermione contest fanfic and the deadline is January 30th, but I don't think that will interfere too much.

_Romance Note:_ You know there's a bit obscure romance references in this chapter, which will become much more overt in the next chapter. You know she can't really do much without her memory, now can she?

_Next Chapter Note:_ Includes: flirty-romance and romance of all kinds, SPSoP training scene, and (if it'll fit) some connection bits between Hermione and one of the characters she hasn't really been interacting with.

Right…enjoy already!

--

--

Snape all but shouted the password at the stone gargoyle responsible for guarding Dumbledore's private rooms. Hermione actually stopped in amaze as what had seemed like ton-heavy stone statue came to life and jumped out of the way. Her wonder was quickly shattered however, when Snape pulled her through the slowly opening doorway and her elbow caught on the rough stone walls of the stairwell. The enchanted steps had just started spiraling upwards, but Snape was too impatient for that and Hermione was very nearly literally dragged up the stairs.

They stopped at the second landing for her professor to bang, rather rudely, on the door. She twisted her head back to look up the stairs that continued to climb without them. Where there more rooms up there?

"Albus!"

She was brought to a stop in front of a cluttered desk, behind which sat Albus Dumbledore. Awkwardly standing, which her significantly taller professor's grip on her bicep pulling her shoulder up at an uncomfortable angle, she sniffed loudly and inclined a head respectfully.

"Good morning, Headmaster," she murmured eyes downcast. It was, to say the least, embarrassing to be dragged into the office of one's Headmaster.

But Dumbledore was all smiles. Calmly setting down his quill atop the parchment he'd been working on, he folded his hands on top of his desk and beamed warmly at Hermione.

"Hello, Hermione. Are you feeling better?"

"Headmaster!" Apparently, Snape had had enough of being ignored. "Do you have any idea what your prized student has been up to?!"

Dumbledore sighed and took off his glasses. He rubbed the lenses with the sleeve of his robes, though it was more out of habit than necessity. "I have a fair guess."

Snape's mouth dropped unattractively and his fingers tightened bruisingly around Hermione's arm. "Headmaster, you can't be serious—"

"Ahem." Dumbledore had replaced his glasses. "Severus – if you would be so kind as to shut the door."

Snape didn't move until Dumbledore settled his calm, weighty gaze upon him. The pressure on Hermione's arm dissipated, though there was still a sorry ache in her bicep, and while her Potion's Master slammed the office door shut she took a step closer to the reassuring presence of her Headmaster.

They both waited patiently – Snape less so – while Dumbledore whispered a long string of words that eventually turned the quiet study into a muffled space between four walls that glowed a faint, cheery gold. It seemed a bit much for hearing a minor dispute.

"Now, Severus, kindly tell me what Miss Granger has done to warrant your bringing her here?"

"Are you aware of the Reanimation Potion?" Snape demanded.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, tapping his index finger thoughtfully to his lips. "Oh yes, I have heard of such a thing. Quite difficult to brew as I recall – the ingredients themselves are _extremely_ rare." He straightened again, placing his hands in his lap. "But why bring such a thing up now, and in Miss Granger's presence I might add. The youth are quite impressionable, Sev—"

"She already knows it," Snape sneered. Dumbledore gave a soft "ah" and sighed, needlessly bobbing his head in understanding. Hermione suspected he knew all along, but didn't fancy getting grabbed again so she kept silent.

"She could recite every ingredient, even explain how best to acquire them," Snape continued, placing his palms on the front of Dumbledore's desk. "_But!_ She refused to tell me where and by what means she discovered this information."

He looked absolutely livid, and rather than face his rage, Hermione moved to put one of the sitting chairs between them before speaking. "Professor Dumbledore." He looked to her kindly. "I would gladly tell you, sir. Only...I can't remember where I learned it; just that I _know_."

"This is a serious situation, Headmaster!" Snape hissed.

"Severus," the simply act of standing and the ranting Potions professor was effectively silenced. "In all likelihood, it is probable that Miss Granger truly _can not_ remember." He looked between the two of them – standing a room apart – and motioned to the two chairs. "Please sit."

Neither did.

Stepping out from behind his desk, Dumbledore moved to the large display case behind it and opened one of the glass doors. "As you know, Severus, Miss Granger went through a traumatic ordeal. It's only natural that she would be affected. Poppy and I have deduced that, in a rather Slytherin showing – if you don't mind my saying, dear?"

Hermione dumbly shook her head.

"With a cunning that would make Salazar proud, Miss Granger repressed everything that wasn't of value to her survival in Azkaban." The word made her shiver. "And wisely so. She realized that the less memories that were available, the less the guards would be able to access and feed off of. The only truly happy memories she kept were those of her friends, Misters Potter and Weasley. Is that correct?"

Again she nodded.

He continued to fuss with the cabinet, and it gave Hermione a moments pause. Such a powerful and intelligent wizard who could so easily see what had happened to her, could just as easily be an old man doddering around with ancient trinkets he hadn't the heart to let go of.

"The rest were all purely factual," he continued, gruffly. "And unlike Miss Granger here, Dementors gain no sustenance from books and facts."

Hermione flushed and rubbed absently at her sore arm.

"So, as it sounds, everything that she's been working on for the Order was deemed 'necessary for her survival'. All the knowledge exists in her mind currently, but without any other memories linking to it, it has nothing to explain its coming about. The end result is there, but no process leading up to it."

"That sounds right, sir," she said. "I've been having this odd sense of 'knowing' something, without actually 'knowing' it." She flushed. "Does that make sense?"

"This is all preposterous," Snape snarled.

"Perfectly so!" Dumbledore replied with a laugh. "Allow me to demonstrate."

Hermione watched his arm as it drew back, and caught the metallic flash in the dim glow of the room's sound barrier. In less than half a breath she was throwing herself in front of the potion's professor, knocking him back off the desk. She caught the sword's pommel as the blade arced towards her, and swung it once to dissipate the velocity before she spun the handle in her palm and slashed, with shrieking steel, an 'x' in the air before her.

Dumbledore beamed. "Excellent, my dear!" He clapped, "Good show!"

Hermione stared in horror at the blade she held in her hand and the way she gripped it became suddenly awkward. It tumbled from her numb fingers and hit the floor. Rubies glinted in the light, dazzling her eyes as she tried to read the name engraved on the flat of the blade. 'Godric Gryffindor'.

There came a strangled noise from just behind her, and Hermione had nearly forgotten in her shock the Professor she'd just defended. She whirled around and had a moment of panic before she looked down to see the dignified man sitting on the floor. Hermione fell to her knees beside him and started to help him up.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Professor. I didn't cut you did I? I don't know what came over me—"

Snape looked at the babbling young witch fuss about in a way that, prior to that day, he'd never seen displayed in his presence, before turning his shock and disbelief to the twinkling Headmaster who, only moments before, had tried to _skewer_ him. There were few times that Snape questioned the mentality of his superior and this was one of them. The old man had gone completely nutters.

"Terribly sorry, Severus," the white-haired man said jovially. "All in the name of science you know."

"What exactly _has_ this girl been doing for the Order?" Snape demanded, trying to shake the brunette off. She pulled her hands away – fists straying often times to her worried lips – but she remained hovering just at his side.

Dumbledore had reseated himself, and was currently adjusting his voluminous robes to seat himself comfortably. Eyes twinkling, he popped a lemon drop into his mouth and beamed at Snape. "I honestly don't know. Bit mysterious and all that."

"Headmaster!"

"You can go now, Severus," Dumbledore said around the candy he was sucking on and waved absent-mindedly at the door. "I have a few things to discuss with Miss Granger privately, before I send her off to her classes."

"But Professor," Hermione spoke up quickly as Snape billowed out. Nervously gripping the back of one of the chairs, she said; "I can't do anything in the other classes I'm taking, sir...I haven't got my wand."

"Oh, yes. The snapping of one's wand is a most grievous affair," he said in a _cheery_ voice that was _entirely_ out of place. "Lemon drop?"

An anger that she'd never before directed at the man she looked up to flooded straight from her chest to her fingertips, curling the slender digits into tight shaking fists that trembled against her legs. She gritted her teeth. "In all due respect, sir..."

"Oh!" He exclaimed suddenly. "Where have my thoughts gone these days? You'll forgive me if I am too amused because without the proper piece of knowledge that, of the two of us, only I am currently in possession of, I could understand your distress at the loss of your wand."

"Then please, explain," she gestured for him to do so while forcing herself to calmly sit down on one of the chairs arranged before the desk.

"Do you recall an incident before your removal involving a self-discovery spell in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" He inquired genially.

Hermione genuinely paused a moment and thought. Unconsciously she worked her lower lip between her teeth; eyes fixed on some point diagonally off the ceiling as she worked through the mass of what Dumbledore had called "Order work". She wasn't even sure what this "Order" was – it sounded like some sort of cult to her. Finally she sighed. "No...I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize, no need. It's quite alright," he said. "I'll give you a brief description that should suffice until your true memory returns. This spell was designed to make the castor more in touch with their magic and their own personality and by so doing, increase the strength of their spellcasting. In the case of you and your six comrades – Lily, James, Harry, Sirius, Ron, and Remus – it acted as a catalyst for something called the 'Seven-Pointed Star of Power'."

Seeing her confused look, he tried to explain a little better. "This Star was outlined in the same Scrolls you used to bring the Marauders forward in time—"

_Marauders? Forward through time?_ Now she was even **more** confused. Just a moment ago he'd been talking about those strange people that had been sitting across her at breakfast and now he was rambling about time and what sounded like a forward-propelling spell. She was quite sure something of that nature was highly illegal.

"You, Hermione, have inherited the characteristics of 'Magic'. You can now see my amusement can't you? You don't need a wand for your lessons. A bit of training up by Tonks and your spellwork will be a snap." He chuckled heartily at his own joke. "The others have begun their work a bit ahead of you, but you were always able to catch up in things..."

Hermione's head was reeling as he went on and on. Who the devil was Tonks? And what did he mean 'no wand' – that would be impossible!

"Oh my, you're still confused." He looked sympathetic, and Hermione tried her best not to yell at him for making her even more confused in the first place.

"Let's try this." Riffling through one of his desk drawers he pulled out a fully set tea tray, complete with steaming teapot. Eyes widening, Hermione leaned a bit out of her chair as she strained to look into this apparently gargantuan drawer.

She was startled out of her peeking by a loud **CRASH! **Dumbledore had taken one of the tea saucers and smashed it against the top of his desk. She gaped at him. Shifting one of the china cups waiting eagerly to be filled with tea to the silver tray he picked up a second saucer and held it aloft.

"Now look at this disk," he instructed. "And imagine it...as _that_." He pointed to the powdered, jagged pieces of china lying scattered on the desk – painstakingly hand-painted flowers looking melancholy with their serrated edges and cracked petals.

Hermione had to admit, it was a bit difficult to concentrate with such a steady stream of conscious thoughts rushing through her mind, but Dumbledore was patient. He waited silently as she fidgeted in her seat, tolerantly as she rubbed at her eyes and forced them to focus on the small saucer in his fingers. And when she was finally ready to do as he'd asked there was no sign of fear on his aged face.

She narrowed her eyes, as if she could break the plate by sheer force of stare.

"Don't see the plate breaking apart...see it already broken – the process of getting there is inconsequential."

_Right._ Hermione's nose wrinkled as she began to sweat. _Break you stupid plate!_

Hermione bit back a scream as porcelain showered over her in a violent rush; she hardly got her arms up in time.

"My, my. That was exciting wasn't it?"

Slowly, she lowered her arms. Dumbledore, his already messy desk covered in a fine white powder, was patting his beard clean and surveying the vaporized tea saucer with befuddling amusement. He looked up at her and chuckled at the slack-jawed look upon her face. His half moon spectacles were useless underneath the white film that had collected on the lenses.

"Wow..." She breathed. _Did **I** do that?_

"Let's try it again, shall we?"

Hermione had spent the lunch hour with Dumbledore, munching on the food brought up by house elves, and eventually working to reform the objects she'd broken. It was some time in the afternoon that she was eventually excused, and walking down the empty hallways that spoke of classes still going on she spent the time in quiet reflection.

She was capable of doing wandless magic. She'd already been shown that to be true, but she had no idea _how_. In Dumbledore's mind that wasn't important. However, _she _wasn't satisfied until she knew all the answers.

Her hands were still tingling and that bothered her. The entire lower portion of her arm pulsed with above normal heat that became stifling in the large sleeves of her robes. Her hands themselves, from fingertip to wrist line, were inordinately sensitive to the touch; as if the nerve endings beneath the skin were supercharged.

She reached the Gryffindor Tower with relative ease and without the aid of the Marauders' Map. Either she was regaining her directional memories or she was, as Dumbledore had said, a "quick study".

"Cassiopeia."

The portrait door cracked open and she nudged it the rest of the way with her shoulder and stepped inside.

"Hermione!"

Something jumping in her heart made her realize the emptiness that had taken the place of her two best friends. That hole began to fill as she looked across the common room. Ron had knocked the chess board onto Lily in his haste to stand and Harry was on his feet as well. A strong pull like that of a portkey tugged at her navel, jerking her into action and moving her across the room.

"Are you alright?" Harry demanded moving around the furniture. "What did that slimy git do to you?"

She smiled and let the bespectacled boy lead her to the couch and sit her between the two raven-haired boys from breakfast. Shifting awkwardly, she gave the boy on her left a wide smile. "Hello again."

The boy, Harry's look-a-like, laughed softly and shook his head before the actual Harry recalled her attention. "Hermione?"

"Oh, sorry. It was..." Bright emerald eyes, flecked with gold, darted across her face from a vantage point just below her neck while her best friend crouched in front of her. She smiled wanly. "Nothing. It was nothing."

"Ahem."

Hermione looked up from Harry to the brunette boy sitting kitty corner to her at the coffee table who hadn't paused in his parchment work to clear his throat. Her gaze moved down to Harry who had looked back at the boy as well. As Harry turned back to her, she glanced at Lily. Her own jade eyes were moving between the brunette boy and Hermione.

"You can tell us," Harry insisted. Her eyes were still fixed on the doggedly working boy sitting a dozen paces away. As if her gaze was a tangible feeling, he glanced up at her through shaggy bangs but looked quickly back down again.

"I know..." she said slowly. Brow crinkling in the boy's behavior. Her eyes held his shape 'til the last moment, her head turning back to Harry. "Dumbledore just talked to me about what's been going on lately. It's kind of..._overwhelming_."

Harry smiled and patted her hand. "I understand—"

That's all Hermione heard before she was overcome by burning pleasure. Jolts lanced up her arm in sharp, tingling bursts before melting down into her chest with a consistency of syrup. It was only luck that she was sitting down for her legs felt as strong as a house of exploding snap cards.

"Harry..."

The flood rolled back and she could see again, though a deep haze was slow in leaving her vision. Lily was gesturing Harry over and she caught the wide-eyed look on the redhead's face before Harry straightened and blocked her view. She pulled her hand back as calmly as she could, but was surprised to find it shaking. Her cheeks _felt_ red and it wasn't too far a stretch with her breath coming out in wisps and her heart thundering enough to rustle her uniform. Lips straining into a smile, she shifted her weight and stuffed her hands under her legs as Harry walked away.

"So...why aren't you in class?" She asked, solicitously.

The boy on her right ran a hand through his long hair, catching her attention. "Neville got his arm transfigured into a table leg. McGonagall cancelled class."

"Oh," she said softly and returned to looking at her lap.

The silence stretched. Ron and Lily resumed their game, the brunette was still continuing his school work, Harry had pulled his broom and its servicing kit out of nowhere, and the two boys on either side of her were solemnly silent with books open on their laps. No one made much of a move to include Hermione and she discovered fully how out of place she was.

Clearing her throat she looked hopefully to the long-haired boy and tried for conversation. "So, umm...what is it you're reading?"

"Background information on the Aureus Prophecy," he said gruffily. He squinted at his current page before turning it. "You remember _that,_ don't you?"

When she didn't answer he glanced up at her and the smoldering blue eyes with their ebony framing lashes looking through silky raven strands, which in any other situation would have made a girl melt straight down into her stockings, made Hermione cringe gently and turn her face downwards.

"Aw geez – I'm sorry, Hermi-"

"No, no." She called him off with a forced smile that strained her lips so that Sirius feared the skin would crack. "It's not your fault I've lost my wits."

He pushed the book away until it formed a rather precarious balance on his turned ankle, and gave his attention of to her with an expert flick of the wrist that sent his long black hair over his shoulder. Hermione stared at the brushed back hair like it was a different entity entirely.

"Any idea when those great memories of yours are comin' back?" He asked, throwing his arm over the couch. His fingertips were grazing her shoulder.

"I am afraid not." She sighed and looked away, giving him her profile.

It was hard not to tackle her to the ground, and hug her with overjoyed shrieks that he'd later vehemently deny, and squeeze her until she was little more than a slender, human-shaped stuffed toy. She'd just come back from the most terrible wizarding prison in the world and the whole school was acting as if she'd merely been misplaced in an obscure Canadian province somewhere. He couldn't believe it. The worst was yet to come, saved for last and all that rot, for as she sat there – undoubtedly _Hermione _and as much 'flesh and bones' as she could be after prison meals – she made no sign of recognition or displayed even the tiniest, itsy bitsy snitch-flicker of remembrance of him. _Ever._

She pulled her wildly attractive thorn-bush of hair into an even messier pile atop her head, but his dangling fingers caught a tiny curl at the nape of her neck and expertly twined it about. He might as well have been Snivellus the way her syrupy eyes were studiously fixed elsewhere.

And then, _outstandingly_, she leaned to the side – neck pressing against his stilled fingers and hand fluttering up to rest lightly – beckoningly – on his elbow.

"Why does he stare at me?"

Her whispered words were disappointingly _not_ the ones he'd hoped for hearing with one Gryffindor Head Girl's murmuring lips so close to his ear. Grudgingly accepting the curiosity festering from her inquiry, he followed her gaze. A quick burst of motion ending just before his eyes locked on the alleged 'stare-er', Sirius ground his teeth and gnawed aggravatingly on a misfortunate thumbnail. Remus.

The boy's ears were tinged lightly pink and the sway of his quill seemed to have a desperate sort of sashay. Sirius wagered fifty galleons that if he went over for a look at his homework he'd find it filled with nonsensical doodles – created in a panicky burst of desire to 'appear busy'.

The fingers wrapped in her curl twitched. "I'm sure he's not."

Hermione just shook her head and looked down, and – as if linked by a spider-thin string – Remus looked _up_. Sirius' fingers closed convulsively and he quickly grabbed his book back up into his lap trying to appear as if he couldn't see his mate staring, though not quite sure what 'that' looked like. Hermione shifted against him and he could have sworn she muttered "I told you so".

She lifted her gaze slowly, giving the brunette a chance to avert his own eyes, and stared into the flickering flames of the common room fireplace. She'd read of an odd conscientious in the world of Muggle literature that if one stared into a fire long enough the solution to their current quandary would be reveled. Dutifully, her eyes followed the ornate woodwork in the mantel, dropped courteously down the bricks and alighted on the golden-orange flames. She stared at them for only a moment, the bright light pricking her eyes, before dropping her eyesight lower. The hearth was unswept and the golden pokers smudged with soot. It looked as if it hadn't been used in months.

A sigh was the only sound of her disappointment. There were no answers for her. The sound of quill on parchment stopped a moment and then continued again. Over the din of the other students lounging about with their rare freedom from class, Hermione's ears picked up even the smallest of sounds; the faint squeak coming from Harry's lap as he ran the oiled dragonhide cloth rhythmically over the shaft of his prized broom, the click of marble figurines as they moved across the checkered board with the occasional uprisings of battle and shattering pieces, the pop-crack-sizzle of the fireplace, the rustle of cloth on cloth as the Harry look-a-like shifted more than he turned the pages of his book, the soft puff of the long-haired one's breathe on her ear and neck that fluttered her stray bangs.

No one else seemed to take notice of these small, insignificant things, but Hermione noticed them. They were a six-stringed symphony screeching in her ear, unable to be ignored. The brunette boy's eyes were itching into her skin.

"James," she whispered, shifting to face the long-haired boy. If she'd been looking she would have seen that both boys on either side of her looked up. "Why is he looking at me so keenly?"

He closed his book raked his hair back. He looked annoyed. "It's Sirius."

"I _am_ being serious," she insisted, leaning closer. "Does he..._fancy_ me?"

Sirius licked his lips. There was only a moment of hesitation before he looked up into her face; her long nose, slightly upturned at the end with a faint splattering of freckles across its bridge, lips, though thin, were the most alluring shade of coral, brows, thicker than was currently fashionable, were furrowed in questioning perplexity – a shape which they held often, and oval eyes made larger by their strange honeysuckle color and longish pitch eyelashes. Without the distracting mop of woolly curls, her face truly was rather pretty.

"No," he said smoothly. "Moony hasn't ever fancied anyone – we're starting to think he's a bit of a eunuch."

Hermione frowned and was matched by the angry scowl James was shooting Sirius over his shoulder. He grinned, and hoped it made him look reassuringly innocent. James, however, slammed his book shut and pulled himself off the couch. Giving disgusted looks to Sirius all the while, he abandoned research to sit down beside Lily to help salvage her miserable chess skills.

Sticking his tongue out juvenilely, Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. _Stupid James. What does he know anyway?_ Riding the wave of smug superiority he turned back to his sole remaining couch companion and nearly jumped out of his skin to see her wide eyes boring into him.

"I think you're wrong." Was all she said.

She shifted, almost imperceptibly, but Sirius immediately noticed the loss of warmth along his left side where the line of her body was no longer pressed against his. She seemed to be settling in for a long wait. Her legs crossed at the ankles, and one arm she folded across her knees leaning forward to place her chin in her other hand and her elbow on her thigh. Unblinking eyes remained steadfast on their subject, and the brunette boy began to shift restlessly.

Hermione studied every part of him she could see, hoping that some obscure detail might spark a memory; some clue that would impart to her the reason of his fixation upon her. It wasn't particularly difficult by any means, for he was an interesting subject and fair of face.

His hair was somewhat caught between the traditional brunette and blonde colors, and though difficult to term, it reminded her of gold let too long to tarnish. It wasn't completely hopeless like Harry's, nor perfectly silken like long-haired one, but it was thick and was at that point just before it became necessary to have it cut or be unable to see. Tufts jutted out above his ears, no matter how many times he tucked the locks behind, and he was constantly brushing his rugged bangs from his eyes to read.

She remembered his eyes from breakfast – another piece of himself that was stuck between. An interesting mix it was between ice-coated steel and the blue of a robin's egg. She was pleasantly intrigued to find that, despite how he hunched over his book and the goodly distance between them, she could see those eyes as clear as the nails on her fingertips.

The rest of his face was nearly effeminate in nature. It was slender with high, prominent cheekbones and a less prominent jaw than the rest of the boys his age claimed. Even his lips were shaped in the high bow more common to women and it made the thin, pale lips infinitely hold the ghost of a smile. To his luck, his nose was a bit large and Roman and, combined with the raised white lines stretching scarringly across his face, offset the feminine features that might otherwise have made some think him a woman. It was, in all accounts, an interesting face.

Despite its absorbing qualities, Hermione looked away from his face and down the length of his arm to the parchment packet he was working in and the book propped up in front of him. Like his eyes, the cover of the book was quite plain to see. He was working on Potions – and quite devotedly so.

He had a nice way of writing. It was gentle-sloped and elegant, with an annoyingly perfect attention to reproducing each letter the same; every 'a' like the other. Not a single stroke went out of place, no matter the tense locking in his shoulders. The quill he held between his first two fingers and his thumb, resting the spine's edge against his ring finger. The controlling grip kept the quill from moving too much all over the place, though it did quiver somewhat as his hand moved across the parchment.

She was still staring fixatedly at the reserved motions of the eagle quill when it exploded right in his hand.

Everyone jumped, feather bits rained down on the floor, and Hermione looked guilty.

"What...the _bloody deuce_ was _that_?!" Ron exclaimed.

Remus gaped at his empty hand and then looked up at the miniature rainstorm above him. "I don't know what happened; it wasn't me," he confessed, looking around at everyone's startled faces. "_Sirius_...if you did that—"

"I wasn't anywhere near you, you ponce!" Sirius defended.

Remus frowned at him, thin lips turning downwards, and began brushing himself off. "Who knows what your six year old mind would find entertaining—"

"HEY!" Sirius was on his feet now. "You're not a Prefect anymore Remus, so stop acting like some stuck-up—"

"Guys..." James held up his hands, trying to quell the fight that was already blossoming.

"Actually, I _am!_" Remus bit back, his voice wavering slightly as he fought to keep it from rising. He fished through his robe pocket and pulled out the shining silver badge. His frown was nearly frightening. "Or have you been too busy admiring yourself in a mirror to notice?"

"Oh, brilliant! You're fitting _right_ in – aren't you _Moony_?"

He'd gone too far and he new it. He could see the hurt in those angrily narrowed eyes and tight pressed lips. They were both breathing heavily through their noses and the animosity between them was thick and dividing. James watched them with a growing sense of dread in his thoughts. Remus rarely ever fought so heatedly with them – he would frown, and disapprove, and would sometimes ignore them for days after a particularly terrible prank, but his personality kept him from actually confronting them. It was disconcerting to realize that simply _being_ in this time was changing them.

It was Harry, hardly taking notice of the fight, who broke the silence – as always focusing on what was important to _him_.

"Where's Hermione?"

Her feet dangled off the floor.

She remembered that – her bed being so high as to make her look like a small child. The blankets too were voluptuous and dwarfing in their very nature. The mattress had sunk beneath her weight the moment she'd hopped onto it and she'd immediately thrown herself back and reveled in the overwhelming comfort. Never again would she take a proper bed for granted.

But since then she'd sat up, moved to the edge to watch her own legs dangle, and began to take in the foreign room. Looking around, nothing seemed to spark a remembrance and she sunk her fists down into the bed in frustrated defeat. Just then, she spied a beautiful book, covered by rich red leather. Even if she couldn't remember her friends, she knew that a book's proper place was on a shelf.

She hopped off the bed and took a moment to kick off her Mary-Janes before moving to replace it on one of the many shelves. She picked it up dutifully to store it, but as her fingers wrapped around the book a golden lock along the pages clicked softly and the book magically unfurled in her hands. Still determined to put it away, Hermione almost shut it again without consideration but the words upon the pages caught her attention.

Instead of the assumed print, she found the writing inside to be inked and humane in nature. The only explanation was that it must have been a diary of some sort. _Her_ diary. Intrigued by the precise cursive script within and the possibility it contained, something 'familiar' about it niggled her brain and she unconsciously began to read, sinking into the chair at her vanity.

**BANG!**

The door to the boys' dormitory slammed open adding the bright stairwell torchlight to the faint sunlight that was just beginning to rise over the horizon and through the window. If the slamming of the door hadn't awoken him, the large shape landing atop Harry's bed did.

"Harry, Harry!" Hermione was whispering frenziedly. "Wake up!"

Harry fumbled across the bedside table for his glasses, while simultaneously trying to sit up beneath his heavy blankets and an even heavier Hermione. " 'Mione?" he mumbled, shoving his glasses awkwardly over his nose. "What'r you doin' up so early."

"Haven't slept yet," she explained. He squinted at her groggily in the half-light. She was still in her school uniform; skirt slightly rumpled, a scarce two buttons holding her blouse, it's rolled up sleeves, together, and her tie's knot pulled loosely down to her breasts. Her bare legs were splayed out around her.

"Why-"

"I've been reading _this_!"

He looked from her grinning face to the object she was holding aloft. It was a book. Ordinary looking enough. Book-shaped with a red, leather cover. He was understandably confused about his friend's unfounded zeal over a simple book – though she was rather fond of such things.

_Red..._

_Leather..._

Wait.

Being suddenly jarred from sleep was not helpful at all to one's neural processes; but with each blink, the sleep rolled back, and the pieces started coming together and Harry struggled to figure out what this all _meant_.

Light caught the edge of the book and a golden lock-clasp flashed brightly, blinding him for a second. He gasped.

_The diary!_

"What..." He couldn't keep the hope out of his voice. "What do you remember?"

"_Everything._"


	23. XXII She's Back

**Completed: **1/22/05 2:42 PM

**Posted: **1/22/05 6:00 PM

A/N: Oh! So glad my SATs got cancelled for this weekend. Yay bad weather! Anyway --- SO sorry it's been ages, but school's been murder. I'm thinking that once I get back into the groove of classes the chapters should be coming out a great deal faster. Right, this chapter doesn't really have much of what I promised it would because it was just getting so long, and I thought it would be better if I split it into two. Besides, that means I'm five pages closer to finishing the next chapter, lol.

Also have a challenge due...er, next Sunday. It's a short ficlet though, and I already have the plot lined out. That'll be posted either after the deadline or after the winners are announced – don't want no stealing.

--

_Next Chapter_: Training and Hermione has a fireside chat. (if you guess with who then you win a cookie)

_ETP (Estimate Time of Postage): _1/24/05 ( for safety. I'm going to Barnes & Noble with my mum tomorrow and my friend's mum who's like my 2nd mum, and we'll be there most of the day. Plus, I'm thinking I might start on the contest entry instead of TR. So, if y'all are lucky I'll have it up late tomorrow night, but more than likely it'll go up Monday night after my guitar lesson ((my first one! Yay!)) )

_Side note_: Once TR is completed, I'm going to be putting my main focus on writing fantasy/science-fiction short stories for competitions. Anyone who would like to beta – that would be WONDERFUL. You have some time to think about it too. I'm hoping that TR will be done sometime around early-mid march.

--

--

Remus woke to the annoying chirping of his Muggle alarm clock and, with a great deal of mental protest, rolled over and turned it off. He'd lost a perfectly good alarm clock to James the week before when his speed in turning the loud object off hadn't been to the Seeker's liking. He'd since moved it to the other side of his bed and out of reach of anyone save himself.

Rolling back onto his stomach, he buried his head in his pillow and began the daily ritual of convincing himself to get out of bed. This morning, however, it just didn't seem worth it and he'd just decided that he would very much like a day of sleeping in when a soft sound, like a sigh, caught in his werewolf senses.

Another debate.

Should I look up? _Well, that would take an awful lot of effort, you know._ Yes, I know, but I really am quite curious. _But what if you get up and can't get back to sleep?_ That's what _will_ happen. _Are you daft? Don't do it!_ I know I really shouldn't, but I do have classes anyway...

With a groan and a little more kicking of his legs than was necessary to push back the heavy covers, he finally extricated head from pillow and stretched slowly up onto his knees. After allowing a rather long-winded yawn he smacked his lips together and cringed at the taste of his morning breath. Vowing to go straight for his toothbrush, he shifted onto his bum and turned around to scan the room.

James was wrapped up in his bed next to him, huddled around his snitch pillow. Just past the edge of the wardrobe, Sirius' bed stuck out with its curtains closed but a tan foot sticking out over the footboard. Then there was Ron's bed. Pigwig was still asleep in his cage atop the trunk at the bed's end, and his owner – more precisely a lump of blankets – seemed to be as well. What he saw at Harry's bed, however, made his jaw drop.

In the space between the two beds a rudimentary mattress had been transfigured, most likely out of some stray sock judging by its ugly gray color, and, wrapped in the fleece maroon and gold checked throw that the dormitory had a dozen of, was Harry. His glasses were still on, albeit a bit skewed, which meant he'd gotten up sometime in the night and put them on to make the ramshackle bed on which he was now sprawled.

And now the sixty thousand galleon question: _Why wasn't he in his bed._

Another sigh revved his curiosity and he saw the blankets on Harry's bed shift. _Alllright._ If Harry wasn't sleeping in his bed, then who was?

Leaning slightly over the edge of his bed he was able to see around the curtains bunched in the corner of Harry's and over the footboard, where the faint outline of a shape beneath the blankets was visible. Despite the bulgy comforter, he could still make out the slight frame curled underneath it, and so, before he even saw the pale arm wrapped around a lump of sheets or the fan of toffee curls across the white pillow, he knew exactly who'd joined the boys' dormitory.

Hermione shifted again, mumbling something in her sleep and throwing an arm back against the pillows as she unconsciously resituated herself. She must have been coming out of REM sleep to be moving so much, and therefore near waking. Since his alarm had just gone off he knew it was only a little after seven, and if she was waking up on her own this early after such a busy day and after everything she'd been through, he wondered how early she'd trained herself to wake up on a _normal_ day.

"Uhhnn...Moony, what time is it?"

Remus turned sharply at the sudden distraction James provided with his head beneath his pillows. He glanced back at the clock, raking his bangs back so he could read the digital letters. "7:10. We have to meet Tonks in an hour."

"Ehh, great," was the grumbled reply before James finally popped his head out into broad daylight to converse like normal people. "Another fun-filled training session with Sirius goggling at his 'baby cousin all growed up'..."

Remus laughed, but it was half-hearted as his attention and his eyes were being quickly drawn back to Harry's bed. "Harry...Harry wake up."

**WHUMP!**

One of Remus' pillows hit the sleeping boy squarely on the face and he sat up with a start. James saw the shaggy head pop up over the foot of his bed and clambered over to the edge to peer at Harry sitting disjointedly in the spill of maroon and gold and tassels.

"Oi! Wotcher doing on the floor?"

"Was sleeping," he grumbled, but ran a hand over his face to dispel his earlier grogginess.

"Mmm..." The curtains around Harry's bed billowed outwards as a hand stretched sleepily against it, thus, gaining the trio's attention. "Good morning."

A slender hand it was that parted the curtains and hooked the folds behind the ring attached to the bedpost for that specific purpose. Buried from the waist down, a very disheveled, but smiling, Hermione looked out into the dorm.

"_Hermione_?!" James choked. Out of the corner of his eyes –now locked on the young girl – Remus watched his friend hastily stuff the worn snitch toy back under his pillow.

Hermione didn't seem to have noticed the "unmanly" object, for she was arguing with Harry. "How did you end up on the mattress – I _told_ you to take the bed."

"Really, Hermione," Harry scoffed. "Did you think I was going to let you sleep on the floor?"

"It's a _mattress_!" She corrected, loudly; no longer asleep in any sense of the word. "And that's where I started..."

"Ah ha!" Harry held up a finger to signify a revelation of sorts and he waved it teasingly at her, winking behind his crooked glasses. "But you made the mistake of falling asleep before me and Ron. We levitated you into the bed."

Hermione spent a good minute scowling at him before she kicked back the blankets a bit too forcefully and climbed on top of the sheets. "It's 'Ron and _I_'," she muttered snippily under her breath, then proceeded to slip over the edge of the bed on Harry's side, and none-too-accidentally land on his legs.

"Ow!" He yelled, and if the rest of the dorm hadn't awoken earlier they had now.

"You deserve it you Slytherin twat," she reprimanded, kicking him lightly onto his side. She had an evil smirk on her face. "You're as bad as a Marauder."

Three 'hey!'s chorused throughout the room, from each Marauder respectively. Ron, however, was with lips twisting back a laugh as he rolled over and hung above the squeaking side of his bed. "Morning Hermione Jane," he drawled, propping his elbow up on the bed and supporting his jaw on a fist.

She jumped off the lumpy mattress, her bare feet hitting the wooden floor with a **slap!**, and stretched her arms high above her head. Her hair was an unkempt mess that bordered on something from Remus' original time of the seventies, and several curls were caught beneath the collar of the oversized dress shirt that was quite obviously not her own. There was a long 'v' of her throat and chest revealed before the tip showed the pale crème-colored fabric of her tank top. The middle three buttons were all that held it together, so that the sleep-softened fabric of the shirt hung loosely off her shoulders and brought the cuffs of the sleeves down past her fingertips. The rolled up waist of her shorts was a lighter blue than the rest of the cloth and the whole piece was probably only visible when her stretching arms lifted the shirt tails out of their obscuring position, and...hey! were those _his_ boxers?!

Yawning, Hermione wanded her hair into an even messier pile atop her head and stuck her wand through the rubber band, all the while with Remus' mouth hanging practically unhinged.

Harry was the first to notice. "Oh, sorry for snitching your skivvies, Remus, but you're the closet fit to Hermione and she needed something to sleep in."

"He wouldn't let me go back to my room!" Hermione defended, obstinately. She crossed her arms across her chest, and they continued bickering as if Remus wasn't staring at his own boxers on someone else's body, open-mouthed in embarrassed disbelief.

"It was two in the bloody morning," Harry shot back, with a roll of his eyes. "I couldn't trust you to sleep if my life depended on it. Probably have gone right back to your books, you would've."

"_I'm _not the one who needs a babysitter." Her look was pointed.

"We offered our own shorts..." Ron reminded her.

"Oh, _yes_," she gushed, clearly about to engage in a debate. "Yours would probably reach all the way down to my ankles, and merlin only knows how long it's been since Harry's were laundered. Honestly, Remus is the only one out of you lot that can be depended on."

Remus pushed aside his curtains and swung his legs over his bed's footboard. "You remember me?" His bewilderment was buried beneath the wary tone.

The annoyed face that had been bantering with Harry and Ron, softened into smooth elegant lines as she turned to him and she smiled in the eye-crinkling, cheek-dimpling way only she could; no matter if the sun was barely up or she'd just left a grueling double-period of Potions.

"Of course." She laughed lightly. "I'm not as slow as Harry, you know."

"HEY!"

"I think that was all just an excuse to spend the night in the boys' dormitory."

Hermione turned to the far bed, where Sirius was lounged against the corner post and winking roguishly at her, having to lift curly bangs back from her eyes with the back of her palm to see him properly. "You're right Sirius – I'm so terribly, madly in love with you I just couldn't stand to be apart for one night."

"Glad, you've finally come around. Shall we have an extravagant wedding, or just damn it all and elope?"

She 'tsk'ed discouragingly at the boy, and turned to help Harry clean up his temporary bed. While he retransfigured the bed back into one of Vernon Dursley's smelly tube socks that were usually used to line Hedwig's cage, she levitated the pillow back up onto his bed, and charmed the throw to fold itself back up neatly and disappear back into one of the wardrobe drawers.

"I'm never going to get that shirt back am I?" Ron commented dryly, heaving himself out of bed and moving to get dressed.

"I think she just stock piles them," Harry replied. He'd _finally_ corrected his precariously situated glasses.

"They're comfortable," Hermione interrupted. When Ron laughingly, focused his gaze on her, she pouted and wrapped her arms around herself, just in case he happened to be thinking off ripping his shirt right off her. "Besides, I only have one or two. I'll give them back as soon as I have time to get them pressed."

"Look at me, Hermione," Ron instructed with a flamboyant gesture that involved jabbing his fingers at his chest. "Do I look like I care if they're pressed or not?"

"You look a great many things, none of which are kind enough for me to say out loud."

Ron stuck out his tongue and made a rude gesture.

"I'm gonna go get dressed and you lot had better do the same because I'll have your heads if we're late," she swore, fisting her hands onto her hips.

"Well, aren't you demanding in the morning," Ron teased, pulling the 'R'-embroidered jumper out of his trunk.

"I'm here – why _not_ command you?" she said back logically.

"Go!" James growled, though the outburst came out odd-sounding through the cottony fabric of the t-shirt he was attempting to pull over his head. Hermione giggled to watch him finally worm his way out.

"Unless you're planning on dressing right here, you can get going; we don't look half as good changing as you do." He mirrored her outlandish position with dramatic flair; sticking his hips far to the side and slapping his hands onto his waist.

Hermione, in turn, copied him, even going so far as to ruffle her hair in that I-think-this-makes-me-look-rougishly-handsome-but-really-is-just-annoying way that made upstanding young ladies like Lily Evans cringe. Sirius gave a loud bark of laughter at the display and they _all_ listened to the numerous banter as they got ready for training.

"And how would you know the way I look when dressing, Mr. Potter?" She countered. "Have you been sneaking into the girls' loo?"

He raised one hand with a ho-hum smile. "Guilty."

At least Hermione was laughing when she chucked a pillow at him. "You're lucky I know you wouldn't," she warned. "You're not like Sirius."

"Hey!" The object of insultation objected. He threw the set of trousers he'd been about to change into on the bed, and shook a fist at Hermione, who'd sought refuge behind Harry's bed.

"I resent that!" He had to shout to be heard over his dorm mates loud guffaws.

"You mean 'represent'," Remus corrected, sitting back down on his bed.

Sirius glared. "You'd better hope you're not my partner today, Lupin."

A giggle.

"You too, Granger."

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing and attempted to look chagrined. All she managed was to turn her face hot red from lack of oxygen.

"Oh, just hurry up and get Lily," Harry finally declared by throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Blowing an apologetic kiss in Sirius' direction, who grinned and made a Quidditch show of catching it, the brunette scooped her diary off the nightstand and headed out the door. It was Ron who jogged to the open doorway after her to yell down the stairs:

"I THINK REMUS MIGHT ACTUALLY LIKE _HIS_ CLOTHES BACK!"

"Damnit Potter!"

Both identical boys looked up from the chocolate frog cards they'd been passing back and forth, looked at Hermione, then at each other, then back. "Which one of us is she talking to?" Harry asked.

"The one I'm about to decapitate," she growled, slipping out of the portrait hole after the group.

Another shared look. "No seriously," James grinned. "Who are you talking to?"

To say that she "leapt at them" was an understatement. It took both Sirius and Ron to restrain her from attacking them, but as it was, with all her squirming, she dragged them quite a ways down the hall.

"You were in the bathroom for _half_ an _hour_." She jabbed a finger painfully into Harry's chest. "What the hell were you doing?"

"He was _cleansing_," Sirius answered, moving his arm from restraining her bodily to linking it with her own arm, confident that she wasn't about to go banshee on her best friend.

"It's true..." James said solemnly.

"I don't care if he was meeting with Lady Sheba – we're _late_!" She reminded with an unnecessary tapping of her watch which was at an awkward angle due to the hooking of arms with Sirius.

"Now we don't even have time to eat," Ron bemoaned. He rubbed his stomach pitifully and looked to Hermione for sympathy.

"It's _his_ fault," she said blandly, looking pointedly at an amused Harry.

Ron narrowed his eyes at his friend, and solemnly drew himself up to his full height, which – in all honesty – was _very_ tall. If Harry hadn't been so amused at Hermione, and inwardly overjoyed at her regaining her memories, he might have been intimidated. Or maybe not...

"Thou art a stealer of breakfast, sir; an undisciplined, sacrilegious hooligan, and no friend of mine. A pox on your children!" He decreed.

"Come on, Hamlet – finish your breakfast soliloquy and let's go." Remus sighed, giving the significantly taller boy a good shove down the hall and following after.

"Guys, wait up!" Lily, who had heretofore been trapped in the portrait opening while they mingled up front, jogged to the other side of James and huffed her bangs out of her eyes as she fell into step. "I have food."

Ron looked as if he would kiss her right then and there, future husband and son be damned.

With her often seen kind smile, Lily pulled a miniature basket from her jeans' pocket and enlarged it barely in time before Ron snatched it greedily up. Sirius was practically hanging over the redhead's shoulder – the only one tall enough to accomplish such a feat – and he looked positively doglike; salivating over the well-stuffed picnic basket in Ron's hands.

"It's _beautiful_."

"Since I saw that we were gonna be late, I had the house elves send up some food through the floo."

"Oh, you're wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, flinging her arms around Lily's neck. Lily, who had been informed of Hermione's return to normal as the girl ran past the dorm steps in _someone's_ boxers and shouted the news to her before rushing to get dressed, found that the girl, flinging herself at her wasn't doing much to lessen the shock.

"My..." She exclaimed dumbly to James as Hermione bounded over to Sirius and Ron. "She certainly has a lot of energy this morning."

"Mmm food!" Hermione moaned exaggeratedly. "I _love_ food. I think I shall abandon my plans of the Ministry and become a professional eater."

Ron thumped his chest proudly and held up the basket so she and Sirius could dig through it while the circus troupe headed down to the grounds. "Already taken."

Both he and Sirius laughed loudly, sharing a joke only true connoisseurs of food could wholly appreciate, while Hermione remained bent on her breakfast-time mission.

"Did you get any sticky buns?" Hermione asked. "They're my favorite, you know."

Lily looked interested. "No, I didn't know. The house elves didn't send any; though, I'd be happy to go with you to the kitchens after training—"

"Oh! Here they are!"

James looked toward his girlfriend in surprise, shock making her jaw drop in an unnatural fashion. Hermione resurfaced from her scavenger hunt with a sticky bun in each hand and left Sirius to continue deciding over what, out of the varied selection, _he _would eat.

"There's just so much to choose from! And you know how famished I get when walking – so, maybe I'll just take a little of everything..."

"Sirius! Keep that bottomless stomach of yours out of _our_ food."

"You're no fun when you're hungry, Remus."

"You can't eat it all if it's already in my stomach." An evil cackle.

"Shut up, Ron."

"Do you hear something? Certainly it cannot be the famed breakfast betrayer...ah, no. It's just the wind."

"I _love_ sticky buns."

"James!" Lily hissed, dragging him down the hall from the group by his shirt collar. When she released him, he gave his neck a grateful rub, but it was hardly any competition for his concern, while Lily's serious face was beside him.

"What's got you all worked up, Lily?" He asked anxiously.

"James, there were _no_ honey buns in that basket," she whispered fretfully, jabbing her finger back in the direction of their approaching friends. He looked right back at Hermione, who was either laughing at something one of the boys had said or at herself, for after wolfing the first bun down in an instant she was tearing off dripping pieces of the second and dropping them into her mouth, but leaving her fingers coated with sticky honey. He was staring open-mouthed until Lily elbowed him painfully in the chest.

"Don't stare!" She hissed.

James turned back to her and jerked his head in Hermione's direction. "Do you think its..." He widened his eyes suggestively, and waved his hands eccentrically, and hardly discreetly, in front of his face.

Lily shrugged, but it was clear by the expression on her face that she believed the unspoken thought to be true. "You remember what happened with Remus, and we all saw the papers..." She trailed off.

"I think we're just lucky that the Skeeter woman published a rather favorable report," James reminded her, starting to walk again as to avoid the group behind them getting within earshot. "I suppose she might have felt 'indebted' or something – she was at Azkaban when it happened you, know."

Lily sniffed disdainly. "I don't think that old cow feels much of anything, except fear that Hermione might come after her next."

"Lily! She'd never—"

"We don't know that for sure, James!" Lily whispered fervently. She glanced hastily back behind her, and picked up her pace. James matched her speed after a few seconds of watching her tense back stalk ahead of him.

"You can't be serious..."

She sighed loudly, and he was surprised to find her fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt. Lily _never_ fidgeted. "I feel so terribly awful for even thinking it, but James..." She looked almost forlornly out the windows streaking by. "James, she doesn't know the kind of power she has, and the fact that she has no control over it...it terrifies me."

A heavy weight settled on her elbow and drew her upset gaze from the high arched windows. James' hazel eyes were locked hard on hers, like the grip of his hand on her arm. "You 'sensed' this?" Lily nodded her head stiffly. "Are you sure?"

"James..."

"No, Lily," he looked positively freaked out and Lily wished she had never said anything at all. "Dumbledore called you in when the aurors brought Hermione back after the raid, you were there. She was unconscious without any shields up to stop you from sensing her, and you told me she was still near impossible to read."

"You know we still haven't discovered all the qualities of our..._powers_. I was frightened, and..."

"Lily—"

"It's not just my sense, James. Can't you see it? She pulled a honey bun out of _bloody_ nowhere."

Aside from fidgeting, cursing was something Lily rarely, if ever, did. James was once again reminded of the affect of this time on those closest to him. One look at Lily's strained face, however, and he curbed his own fears – he knew she was already regretting having voiced _hers_ and piling his own worries on top of hers was something he'd learned to think before he acted about since getting together with her.

"I don't think she'd mean to do anything, but the truth is – Hermione has probably the most powerful point of the star and no idea that she has it. That's dangerous."

"She's our friend, Lily—"

"But that's just it! How much do we really know about her? About any of them?" Lily rubbed her hands down her arms in an attempt to bring heat the goosebumped flesh. "Hermione was only with us for a few weeks, and even then she was hardly around. Even Sirius and Remus know nothing about her, and she spent all her time with them."

"You don't trust her." It was a statement.

For Lily, who'd been brought up to believe that treating others with kindness was the only acceptable way to act, no matter how high her intelligence, she simply couldn't fathom Hermione's radical swings in personality.

"I never said that," Lily amended. "I simply said we don't know anything about her. I mean...how could a person be so wonderful and kind one minute and then completely ice the next?"

"Have you _met_ Remus?"

Her lips pursed. "He's different, James. I know he changes when his with you and Sirius, but at least with everyone else he's just indifferent – he's not _harsh._ His secret isn't something most people could deal with."

He didn't look at her, but instead watched the dusty rafters pass over head with his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets – an infallible sense of direction keeping his feet walking a straight line. Then he answered. "Why can't Hermione have her secrets too?"

Lily looked away and didn't answer.

A good distance behind them, Hermione walked with Harry by her side as she licked her fingers, having completely forgotten that they were running late. "Why are they so far ahead?" she asked.

"Probably appalled by your atrocious eating habits," Harry jibbed, biting into an apple.

She stuck out her tongue and moved to walk beside Remus. "Hey," she said warmly.

"Hello, Hermione."

"I wanted to ask you about the potion I left for you," she said, jumping right in. Her hands, now damp after their bath, were rubbed dry on the back of her jeans. "Did it work all right?"

Remus thought back to the night of the full moon. It had gone just like any other night, but when the customary unbelievable pain of his monthly transformation had subsided the wolf had retreated to the back burner as well and his human consciousness had taken over. He had seen with human eyes the five of them standing across the room from him; seen and recognized. He'd taken control of the beast.

Hermione was looking at him with the friendly patience one might have if they had just inquired as to the weather, much less a werewolf potion, and he, in all honesty, didn't know what to say. Running a hand through his shaggy hair did little to stall for time. "I don't know how to thank you. What you did for me was..."

"Nothing." She finished for him. "I care about you, Remus, and if there's anything at all that will help you, then I'll do it no questions asked."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Hermione, you don't have to—"

"We're friends," she said stoutly, linking arms with him. "And I'm sorry, but I'm going to continue to do nice things for you. That's what friends are for, and you my dear Remus –terribly sorry by the way – are _stuck_ with me."

He laughed and let her bright mood set him at ease as they walked across the grounds. "After Sirius and James you shouldn't be too much of a trouble."

She laughed too, but it was a far cry from its usual bell-like quality. The observation made Remus wonder if Hermione would ever _completely_ recover. "I really wanted to be there with you that first time; I know the potion didn't exist in your time."

"Don't worry about it, Hermione. You're, er, welcome to come next month..." He let the invitation drop. Talking about his lycanthropy was never easier and it still overwhelmed him that so many more people knew about it than before.

But all his inhibitions were set aside when Hermione smiled at him and made no sign of acknowledging the reassuring squeeze upon his hand, but let it remain unspoken and discreet. "Wouldn't miss it," she said. "Maybe I'll even read you a bed time story – Red Riding Hood or the Three Little Pigs?"

"Red Riding Hood, definitely." He answered right away. "Honestly, who would want a career where all they do is go around blowing down houses all the time. Now me, I'd much rather fancy a pretty girl in red."

Hermione grinned impishly. "Should Lily watch out?"

"Only for James. That ponce'll be the death of her." Remus chuckled at his own joke, but Hermione was a bit slower on her own laughter and it seemed all the more forced than before. Was it something he had said?

He was saved, however, by the climsy appearance of a green haired witch as she tripped out of the dark forest. "Oi! Hermione! It's good to see ya on your feet again!"


	24. XXIII Green

**Completed: **1/24/05 11:56 PM

**Posted: **1/25/05 12:09 AM

A/N: Only one person guessed it right (well, sort of). _dancing in rain_ you get a cookie! And I don't care if you think the last part is random, I liked it a lot and it made me a bit teary.

_Next Chapter_: Don't wanna say if it all doesn't fit.

_ETP_: Again...not sure. Hopefully by this weekend.

* * *

"Hello Tonks," Hermione greeted in return. The last time she'd seen Tonks had been at Grimmauld Place the precious summer, and the shapeshifter had been complaining to her about Mad Eye Moody. Hermione hugged the slightly older woman and asked, "How's the boss been treating you?"

Tonks' lime green hair darkened to a nauseating sewage shade in order to match her disgusted expression. "Been running me ragged he has – driving the whole department up the wall."

"Send him my regards."

Tonks grinned – all pearly white teeth – and her long hair turned neon again. "Will do. But hopefully you'll be seeing him before I do." The young auror certainly _looked_ hopeful.

"Why do you say that?"

"Once I'm done helping you lot, Dumbledore has me on Order work over in Germany – finding new recruits and whatnot. The old bloke schedule it so I'll already be knee deep in bear and bratwursts by the time of the next meeting."

"Meeting?" Hermione interjected.

Tonks looked at her oddly. "For the Order, ya know? It's almost a month since the last one."

Hermione's lips formed a soft 'oh', and she shifted the weight uncomfortably between her feet. "Right, of course," she said with a forced smile, but Tonks was rambling on again.

"Must've known Moody was driving me nutters; good man Dumbledore."

Another short smile. "Yes, his is."

Behind Hermione's back, Ron and Harry exchanged glances.

"Right!" Tonks rolled up the sleeves of her robes and with a wiggling of her nose, her hair shrunk back into her head til it was only short spikes jutting out from her head. "The sooner we get started, the sooner Hermione can catch up, and the sooner I can get away from Moody."

"Who'll be training us when you leave?" Lily asked, still worried from her conversation with James.

The ever cheery Tonks beamed brightly and clapped Hermione solidly on the back, "Why little Hermione here! You can handle it can'tcha?"

Remus saw how her eyes had widened when Tonks had touched her, as if already knowing what her answer would be. Though her head was lowered to view the grassy ground, he saw her empty honey eyes close tightly shut and her jaw clench as she fought to keep her entire face from shaking. Her eyes were still closed when she whispered "Of course."

Turning out of Tonk's hold, she walked away from all of them and didn't stop until she was at the very edge of the lake. Not a single set of eyes didn't watch her go, but it was Harry and Ron who turned away from their friend, and, standing close together, stuffed their hands in their pockets and stared into the dark shadows of the forest.

But Remus couldn't look away.

Her tangled mess of curls was longer than he remembered it, and without any binder it reached nearly to her elbows. But despite its length, her hair could not shield the way her white jumper hung off her bony shoulders or how the baggy material hung bunched across hipbones that jutted painfully above her jeans, themselves looking two sizes too big. Skeletal fingers, the color of snow, caught in those harsh, knotted curls as she raked them shakily back from her face – she was shaking all over.

When she turned back around to face a confused Tonks, there was a brilliant smile back on her face. The energetic and happy Hermione was back – all because of a simple smile. It was such a sight that one almost didn't see hollow body, or the absence of light from her eyes – at least they hadn't seen it before.

Maybe Harry and Ron had seen through her mask, or perhaps they'd been played for fools as well – or maybe they'd turned away to keep from dispelling the illusion they wished so desperately to be true. But no matter how brilliant her smile, Remus saw the traumatized and broken girl beneath.

Her smile was so painfully wide, he feared her skin would crack and her lips would split, spilling a trickle of blood down her milk-white chin. There were bags so heavy beneath her eyes that no amount of charm or muggle makeup could conceal – though he saw she'd made the effort; most likely for their sake. She looked pained as she walked back to their disfigured circle, but her voice was clear and sweet as she talked to Tonks.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?"

He opened his mouth as she neared to whisper if she was alright, but to his disbelief, she walked straight past him and came up behind her friends. They parted to accommodate her between them, without turning to look, as if sensing her presence were some unconscious thought.

She pressed herself between the two boys, who Remus had watched turn their backs to her, and within an instant she had reached out to take Ron's hand as it sought out hers as well. Fingers intertwining, the muscles in the redhead's arm tightened and he squeezed her hand. On her other side, Harry turned a bit to face her and his hand came up to touch her lightly on the smooth place between her shoulder blades. She looked to him as well, and Remus caught her lips moving to say 'thank you'. And then she smiled.

She was thanking them? For ignoring her, when she was hurting and needing their friendship more than ever? Remus couldn't believe it; and yet there she was, standing between them, smiling truly, and thanking them for what they'd done. Not knowing what to think of this, he wondered how much he really knew about their new friends...

A few meters away, James grabbed Lily's hand and said "You were right."

Just then, Hermione turned around grinning, and Harry followed her motion, a less than believable smile on his own face. "Hey Sirius!"

The black-haired marauder was surprised at her sudden greeting to him, and he was startled out of his own thoughts.

"Harry here was just telling me...did you _really_ punch a tree?"

Recovering quickly, he gave a suave toss of his long hair and flexed his arms. "Only because it attacked me first."

"Alright, alright!" Tonks interrupted. "Enough namby pamby messing around. Let's get down to business."

The chatter stopped and they all turned to the witch for instructions.

"I'll be taking Hermione today to show her the ropes. Sirius and Harry, you'll be sparring again, and the same for you Lily and Remus – work on your shielding and infiltration together. James I want you working with Ron today, try and get as many unicorns out of the forest as you can – they've gotten terribly wary of humans lately, so you might need to exert a bit more force behind your powers, James, alright?"

They all nodded and split off for their separate assignments, save for Hermione, who stayed behind with Tonks to start her training.

"So," the auror said, rather conversationally. "Dumbledore told me you've been working with something like 'bombarda'?"

Hermione nodded and watched Tonks pull a duffel bag out of her robes' pocket and enlarge it. Hunkering down beside it, she started riffling through it. "Well, in the interest of 'is good china, we're gonna be using clay disks instead – Muggles supposedly use 'em at things called 'firing ranges'."

Hermione had a goodly mental picture of what she was going to be working with just from Tonks blatantly wizardy description of the muggle devices even before the green-haired woman was pulling them out onto the grass. When she was finished, the heavily loaded duffel was banished back to an inner-robe pocket.

"How good are ya at it?" Tonks inquired.

Hermione shrugged; she didn't really know what qualified as being 'good' or 'bad'.

"Alright, alright – let's have a looksee."

Tonks held up one of the disks, and instructed her to blow it up as she had done with Dumbledore's tea saucers. When Hermione looked at the disk, being held only by two fingers at the very very bottom, she saw only empty space above Tonks' hand, only a tiny pile of dust on the ground representing what had once been there. The clay disk exploded instantly.

Not caring that her hair was riddled with pottery dust, Tonks grinned wildly and shook her head to knock some of the rubble loose. "Brilliant. Can you hit 'em when they're moving?" She asked eagerly.

Again Hermione shrugged, "I've never tried."

"First time for everything being blown up," she joked. "Right, here we go."

Hermione followed Tonk's arm as it lowered in preparation of the throw, her curls spilling over her shoulders as her head moved along with the woman's hand. But as soon as the disk was released, flipping wildly up into the air, only Hermione's eyes moved with it. It was hard to 'see' something as gone if it kept moving out of sight. At it's peak – where it froze for the briefest of seconds at a complete stop – Hermione tried to shatter it, but it was gone before she could complete the act and she blast the top branch off a tree instead.

As it shot back downward, turning end over end, Hermione tried something else. Instead of seeing it broken, she imagine the disk was slowing down like a mosquito trying to escape from the oozing sap of the tree it had fatefully chosen to rest upon. And then it stopped completely.

Tonks stared at the immobilized disk stuck in the air just above her waist with something that was very likely awe. "_Brilliant_..." The metamorphmagus breathed. "Can you still blow it up?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed a touch and a long, spidery line cracked the plate through the middle before the entire disk crumbled.

Toeing the mess growing on the ground, Tonks tapped her chin thoughtfully and looked blankly at Hermione while she puzzled out the last bit of her thoughts. "Do ya think you could...do it ag'in?"

Lips drawn in a stern line, Hermione nodded stoutly.

"Good on ya," Tonks praised as she tried to kick one of the clay circles up into her hand. Unfortunately, she ended up breaking five or six in her attempt to stay balanced. "Bullocks! I'm dead clumsy..." she muttered.

Finally she had a few more disks in her hand. "Ready now? Try 'n blow it up faster this time."

Hermione nodded her understanding, and waited for the throw.

After a half hour's time she'd gotten good enough to shatter the disk without having to completely stop it, and each minute that passed she could slow it down less and less and still be able to find her mark. And then she could blast it without any slowing of it at all.

Now Tonks was working to hone her sharp eye by throwing the disks out in all directions, rapid-fire. Eyes the only part of her that didn't seem turned to stone, she followed each disk and destroyed it quickly before darting to the next and the next.

She felt as if she were standing on the edge of two entirely different realities. On one side, the air positively hummed with magic, and like a spectator she watched clay disks twirling lethargically through the air turn to earthen dust. On the other, she heard the soft whinnying of unicorns, the soft groans of mental exhaustion, and the whistle of steel as it contacted with swings of pure strength, like wind.

"Oi, Hermione...do you know the spell they put on snitches?"

Hermione stepped back across the line and blinked her eyes to focus on Tonks excited face.

"Yes," she answered. "Wizards invented it specifically for Quidditch – after using real Snidgets became illegal."

"Feel up to a challenge?" Her face suddenly became concerned. "Oh no, haven't run you down have I?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "Oh no, I'm fine."

"Phew!" Tonks grinned. "I really wanted to see how you'd do against a disk with the snitch spell on it."

It was certainly a good idea, and she was no where near in danger of exhaustion. In fact, she felt as if she'd never have to sleep again. She felt absolutely buzzing with energy, and her skin burned in an almost painfully delightful way – overtaking the poor replacement of her white jumper, that she'd donned in the frigid cold of the morning, when every one else had gone for t-shirts and tank tops.

"Let's do it," she agreed, and found Tonks had already bespelled half the disks.

While Tonks finished her spellwork, Hermione's adrenaline levels subsided to their normal standard and the burning heat in her hands and forearms faded as well. For a good minute Hermione was able to feel nothing at all as she waited patiently for the exercise to begin.

But then the anticipation began to grow.

As the pile of disks remaining to be bewitched dwindled, the scalding flames rose inside her until she felt as if the very edges of her vision were afire. Her fingers were senseless appendages that she could only tell were still attached by a glance; all feeling fled her legs, but still she remained standing – with the dizzying sensation of being nothing more than a head and torso floating above the ground.

As if it were a sentient being, the heat, or more specifically 'Magic', sang in excitement of the coming events. It was like the signals being sent to fire her adrenaline hormones was acting as a stimulus to whatever it was that directed the flow and release of her power, and as her energy levels spiked, the fire enveloped her.

The first disk zipped up into the air, and as the others quickly followed its example she crossed the brink.

The 'other' world was gone, as well as the line that had divided the two of them. All that was left was the world of flying disks, with its off-red scheme of color. Trapped in the crimson world – the color of passion and fire – Hermione felt a pushing and a pulling in her abdomen as if something was trying to release itself.

She looked down at her pale pink hands splayed across the ruby fabric of her jumper, though still in some incomprehensible fashion following the clay saucers, and watched the cloth and the skin beneath stretch impossibly outward in a beastly shaped face.

Fear, above all else, gripped her in its clawed hands, and in a panic she pressed her hands across the straining animal that was pulling away from her and struggled with all her might to press her flesh flat once more. The world around her darkened to the mahogany hue of dried blood, and the heat and 'Magic' cried out.

--

"Oi! Hermione?" Tonks ducked a kamikaze disk and walked back towards Hermione, who hadn't moved an inch since the snitched plates had been released.

The brunette was standing oddly stiff, arms locked down by her sides, and as Tonks neared hesitantly, afraid that she might be breaking the girl's concentration and get herself blasted instead; she was able to see Hermione's eyes clearly. They were widened so far her lashes disappeared into her brows, and the whites of her eyes had all but drowned the honey irises. Tonks broke into an all out run.

"HERMIONE!"

There chorused a half dozen cries of surprise as the shout wrecked the focus of the other trainees, and then a loud, high whinny from the startled unicorns.

--

The fanged jaws snapped at her shoving hands, the beast refusing to go back inside. It strained and twisted and pulled so hard from her stomach that her back bowed. All she could see were a hundred masked faces, their black-gloved hands reaching for her, and she was terrified.

The flames inside her had reached an all time high, and though she knew it was burning her away from the inside out, she couldn't stop the gasps of pleasure as it rolled through her with its fatal desire. She was losing control again and she knew it. Some distant corner of her mind that had yet to be rendered babbling and useless by the addictive heat kept screaming the names of her friends over and over again. They were there – she couldn't let her powers hurt them.

But at the same time the pulling at her abdomen was too much to bear, and her magic was screaming at her to let it out – both demanding to be sated. She had the vague sensation of being forced to her knees, and looking out across the swarm of slowly flitting disks she watched two amber eyes distinguish themselves from the burgundy backdrop.

Like a shot had been fired, or some unknown signal gone off, the thing that's face imprinted her jumper roared and burst right from her body in a gasp-rendering surge of magic. She caught its distinctly emerald eyes as its ghostly, apparition form bounded away towards the first set of eyes, long tail swishing behind it.

--

"REMUS!"

Remus gasped as a force plowed into and through him with a feline scream echoing in his ears. It hit the part of him that was the wolf with enough power to make the monster inside him awake and roar in return; and for a moment, Remus thought Hermione had forced his change to come early. It was the intoxicating flames consuming him in the great metaphysical cat's wake that made him not want to care.

Then a slender hand gripped his shoulder and all the fire and bestiality inside of him was sucked out to the sound of Lily's gasp.

--

The magical world flared bright red again, nearly bordering on fuchsia in its sudden exuberance; the color of fresh strawberries. She was back on her feet. The disk nearest to her was encompassed by a ring of fire that quickly duplicated itself around surrounding clay disks, and as the magic leaked out of her the first ring-marked disk disintegrated, followed by the next and the next. No matter how the snitched disks moved, the rings stayed with them and were destroyed in domino-like precision.

With an almost hyperactive gaze, she followed the moving plates in their destructive process until they were all gone. The final clay saucer made a last ditch attempt to avoid demise by soaring over her head – fiery circle streaking the air in its wake. Hermione turned with infinitesimal agility in this world of slow motion, and locked her darting eyes on the fleeing plate. It exploded in a shower of tan powder.

The red-pink world begin sliding away, giving way to the Technicolor world of her reality, as the energy began to subside. The line reappeared, invisible but noticeable all the same, and she crossed gladly over it into the realm where everything was the color it should be and moving the correct speed, and just before the last piece of her left the magic dimension, there was a low growl and something plowed straight into her back, making her arch and stumble the final step. The beast was back inside.

--

As she blinked her eyes to clear the haze from them, she looked around at the training grounds. She was the only one left standing.

Remus was half on his knees, staring up at her with a look that was in the same family as 'awe' and 'amaze'. The others were lying in different states across the grass. Tonks was recovering the fastest, pushing up off the ground with such a strain in her arms one would think her robes were made of lead. Sirius was the next to start rising, though he seemed loathed to do so and equally unaware of the doofy smile on his face. James and Harry, lying in ironically identical positions just off from him, followed next, leaving Ron and Lily still down.

Ron took such a painfully long time in regaining himself and pushing onto his knees, that the others asked if he'd hurt himself in the fall. Lily lay just behind the now-crouched Remus, hair angelically halo-ed around her head, looking absolutely comatose. James ran to her and pulled her into his arms, quickly brushing the silken ginger strands from her cheeks to look down into her face. Thanking the gods as her eyelids fluttered and then opened, James kissed her quick and assisted her in sitting.

She smiled, and weakly lifted a hand to his cheek. "That felt _wonderful_..."

Hermione's skin itched. She twitched her shoulders but it did nothing to alleviate the pestering _need_ to scratch. It was an odd sensation like that of tiny ants running up and down her flesh, and not entirely pleasant. She was slowly regaining the feeling in her legs, and her arms had fully reconnected to their respective nerve endings, but continued to burn.

"Are they...all...right?" Her voice came out slow and flowing. It was thick and rich like liquid honey. Her tongue felt odd and unwieldy, and sounding as if she had trouble forming the words she wished to speak.

"What the hell was that, Hermione?" Ron asked. He sounded as if he'd just run a marathon.

Hermione's brow creased, and though slow in answer, she responded truthfully. "I am not certain."

"That was her magic backlash," Tonks answered, now on her feet and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "A right powerful one too. We all have backlashes, just never enough actual magic to create a properly noticeable one. Good show."

Turning to face the now bright-red haired witch, Hermione was confused when the auror took a step back. "Blimey, Hermione! What the crike happened to your eyes?"

Hermione made move to look at herself in the lake, but as she turned her friends who, by Tonks' comment, where now looking specifically at her eyes, made varying signs of surprise. Slowly placing her barely felt feet one before the other she crossed the grass, clay rubble crunching under foot, and peered down into the glassy waters.

The honey brown color of her eyes had darkened a shade and bled outwards to stain the whole of her eye. Within the swirl of depthless color, a hundred white stars glittered and twinkled in her aquamarine reflection.

"This...has happened...before," she murmured, and reached up, her fingertips falling just short of touching her lashes.

She'd never been near a mirror at the time of high magical output, but just like she remembered the hot flashes of fire, she remembered the glittering night sky appearing in her eyes.

She straightened and turned back the group. "It...will pass."

"Well how did this backlash reach all of us?" Sirius asked, assisting James in getting the jelly-legged Lily to her feet.

Tonks scratched her head. "Beats me how it started—"

"You touched me?" Hermione's star-ridden eyes locked on Remus.

He shifted and looked almost defensive. "You...looked like you were having a fit, er, something..." He hastened to explain to his actions.

"The wolf called out my backlash," Hermione clarified.

Now Tonks looked truly interested. She didn't have any more idea than they did over how their powers worked, but being a metamorphmagus had made her the only reasonable choice for the job of figuring it all out – despite how dead clumsy she was. "So instead of reabsorbing, all your backlash went into Remus..." she reasoned out. "And then when Lily touched _him_..."

"She got the whole lot of it, plus some of Moony's," James continued.

"It was wonderful," Lily repeated needlessly, and Sirius rolled his eyes.

"And Lily was _obviously_ overwhelmed by it, and...I guess, inadvertently funneled it off to the rest of us," Harry finished.

"Then it...came back to...me," Hermione added.

Tonks' lower lip jutted out thoughtfully and she nodded her head at the theory's eventual conclusion. "Sounds 'bout right."

"Yes," Hermione affirmed in her syrupy voice.

"Hermione..." Remus spoke up. "Is that what you always feel? When you use your power, I mean."

The lethargic mode she seemed to be stuck in was quite aggravating to Hermione as it took her a good four or five seconds just to blink her eyes. "Yes," she answered and his eyes widened in surprise.

Sirius laughed barkingly, and moved to clap Hermione on the back. "You can share that little experience any time."

She smiled a bit, but stepped away from his hand. "Perhaps...it is better...if no one...touches...me...for a...moment."

His handsome face fell a moment, but then quickly brightened as he scampered off to tease Lily.

"Lovely Evans, you seemed to enjoy that." Her eyes narrowed. "Wasn't it positively or-"

"Don't say it, Black." She hissed. "Be decent for once."

Grinning roguishly, he held a hand to the side of his mouth as if to ward his little secret off from the world, than contradictorily proceeded to finish in a loud stage whisper. "Positively _orgasmic_?"

"Sirius!" James yelled as Lily turned red in the face, though he was having trouble as it was holding back his own laughter.

While Harry tried to hold Sirius for Lily to properly attack, and Remus stood back scolding the lot of them, Hermione was listening to the whispered words of Tonks, leaning close to her ear but making a conscious effort not to touch her.

"I think so." The tussling teenagers caught Hermione saying, her voice almost back to its normal tones, and they turned to look as Tonks gave an excited leap, and consequently almost came tumbling straight down on Hermione.

The brunette quickly pulled her hands beneath the cuffs of her jumper and used her woolen-encased hands to catch the graceless auror. Sheepishly scratching the back of her head, Tonks' face blushed to match her hair and the high energy young woman bounced off to the side as clay fragments began to shake against the ground.

"This is bloody brilliant," Tonks exclaimed clapping her hands together.

Pieces suddenly started whizzing through the air finding their companions and matching debris. Over a hundred clay plates began rebuilding themselves from the bottom up, segment by segment, and some even speck by speck so destroyed had they been. Once every mote of clay had found its home again, the cracks thinned and then disappeared entirely, leaving each disk whole again before they all flew into a neat and orderly pile at Tonks' feet.

"Well...you know, Hermione," Ron said with a bit of a laugh – trying to break the silence with a joke. "She hates waste."

* * *

**A few days later...**

Hermione watched the digital letters of her clock change to midnight. It had been hours since she'd retired for the evening, but since then she'd been able to do nothing but stare at her clock and watch the minutes slowly tick past.

Time is certainly a queer thing isn't it? It was supposed to be this steadfast constant that the entire universe revolved around, and yet it allowed humans to change it. It could be sped up or slowed down, altered and disrupted. If time was a steady line from A to Z than how was it they were able to go from point L back to N, or bring four teenage witches and wizards from F to point Q.

Hermione had been questioning the abstract theory of 'time' since she rolled into bed earlier that night and caught sight of her unobtrusive clock with its red block numbers, and it hadn't been until just that moment – the poetic change into midnight – that she'd settled on an explanation she liked best.

She'd decided that it was all relative. From the human perspective it would seem as if time was as inconsistent as the wind – jumping forward, then doubling back, and repeating itself. However, if one were to step away from it all and see through the eyes of the Powers That Be, they would realize that time was indeed one long, straight thread. It wasn't letting humans to change it, it was letting them _think_ they had control over it, when in cosmic truth, every event throughout time had its place and occurrence, even if that event repeated itself.

Hermione sighed. If that were true, than she'd been _meant_ to bring the Marauders forward in time, and _that_...was a comforting thought.

Slightly less comforting however, was the freezing temperature of her room and though she was curled up beneath as many blankets as she could find she was still frigidly cold. Insisting that the bright glow of her clock and the subzero atmosphere of her personal quarters were the cause of her latent insomnia, Hermione rolled herself out of bed and headed for the common room.

Comforter still trailing behind her, she shuffled out from beneath the girls' staircase and stopped just short. Someone was already curled up on the couch, firelight catching on their unruly black hair.

"Harry?" She called out softly, venturing a guess.

The boy looked over, surprised by her sudden appearance, and shook his head. "James," he corrected.

"Sorry," she apologized in chagrin.

"Nah, s'ok," He waved her over and scooted to the far side of the couch to show her he was serious. "Come have a seat, I certainly don't need to hog the whole common room."

Hermione hesitated a moment, but the fire did truly look wondrously warm. Obligingly, she waddled over to the plush couch and when James caught sight of her he started to laugh. Surreptitiously ignoring his chuckles, Hermione burrowed farther into the puffy down comforter she'd draped over her head and shoulders and wrapped it tighter around her.

"Oh shut up," she complained, sitting down. "It's cold."

"Aww..." He cooed babyishly. "Come on out little flobberworm – it's a bright new world." He reached over and brushed the blanket back off her head, and a very frizzy-haired Hermione scowled back at him from a pool of blankets around her waist.

"Very funny," she retorted sardonically. Reaching her hands forward, palms out, she tried to soak up some of the fire's warmth. "So what are you doing up anyways?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. You?"

She smiled. "The same. Been thinking too much..." she trailed off, but James didn't hesitate to pick the conversation up again.

"No one would accuse me of that," he joked, and she breathed a bit of a laugh, her eyes moving from the fire to his face.

"You don't give yourself enough credit. You _and_ Sirius," she amended. "You could both do just as well as Remus if only you _applied_ yourself."

"Thanks, mum. So what were you thinking about anyway?" He drew a knee up his chest, and wiggled down into his corner of the couch as if settling in for some lengthy story telling.

It was her turn to shrug. "Silly things."

"Come on," he goaded, and she looked at him through the corner of her eye in mild surprise. "You can tell your big brother Jamesie."

"Jamesie?" She made a face.

They both laughed, during which, James solemnly swore that he had been quoting Sirius. She forgave him for the atrocious nickname he'd given himself and before she could stop herself, had agreed to tell him about what she'd been thinking earlier. That had been a solid minute ago, and she'd made no move to explain it any further.

With one of the golden pokers, elongated to reach from the couch to the hearth, she absentmindedly stirred the ash and logs, concentrating on making a certain series of pops and crackles rather than on the boy sitting next to her.

"Now I'm all curious, Hermione" He finally said. "What keeps a lovely woman such as yourself from getting her beauty sleep. Boys?" He added the last bit with an overly exaggerated waggling of his eyebrows.

"Tch!" She made an offended sound. "What kept you up?" she shot back.

"I'll have you know, I get mad awful indigestion," he smiled winningly.

Hermione paused on this tidbit, then promptly frowned. "Hey! We didn't even eat dinner tonight—"

"Too late!" He interrupted cheekily. "I answered, now it's your turn."

Shaking her head, Hermione shifted under her swaddle of comforter and stabbed at a charred log. "What keeps me awake at night..." she repeated slowly. This time James wisely kept quiet.

"I think about Azkaban."

James was silent, and Hermione didn't dare look at him for fear that she'd find his eyes on her to be full of pity. She couldn't bear that look directed at her.

"You know there isn't much else to do there except sleep..." she murmured. "I suppose I'm still rather 'wired' from it all..."

The flames waved cheerily in their stone bed and she despondently dragged the glittering poker through the ash.

"It's an awful place. Everyone there is mad; half starved, rotting corpses that by all logical means shouldn't even still be alive. The jailers...they make sure you're always holding on to that last bit of life; they keep you as fodder for the Dementors." Her eyes were showing a bit too much white as she talked, and her grip on the poker was knuckle popping, but she was determined to finish speaking. "They're the reason I can't sleep at night..."

"The Dementors?" James asked, quietly.

"It always hurt less if the sucked you dry in your sleep – at least that way you couldn't hear the others screams. When you woke up you'd wake into a dark despair, but you wouldn't have to relive those..._terrible_ memories," Here her voice cracked.

"I would watch the people I loved dying...over...and over...and _over_...and then, then I _hated_ them for making me their witness, hated them for _suffering_, for _dying_, for the Dementors making _me_ suffer that much more. And then I hated myself...it was cruel and disgusting, but I...I just wanted it to _stop_."

She didn't know when the tears had started rolling down her face, because all she felt lately was a hollow emptiness where 'Hermione Granger' had once been.

She smiled twistedly through her tears and it was malicious and disparaging. "In Azkaban I slept to avoid them, and now...now I fight to stay awake because they haunt my dreams."

The tears slowed to a stop and began drying in the heat of the fireplace upon her stone-like face. She prodded the hearth and stirred the fire to a brighter life. "Besides, the death eater I put in a coma is sleeping enough for the both of us, don't you think?"

James winced and uncurled himself from the corner, moving closer to her on the couch. "Hermione..."

"I'm not stupid, James. I know you all tried to hide the papers from me, but I read them. Cover...to bloody cover, as the saying goes..."

He was never any good at this comforting thing, and it was rather awkwardly that he patted Hermione's shoulder. "Listen..."

"Twenty-seven seriously injured. That's pretty good for a starving convict without a wand..." She was refusing to look at him. "I ripped off all four of a man's limbs, did you know that?"

Now James grabbed her sternly and gave her a forceful shake. "I don't know what you're trying to do, Hermione, but you have to stop it. Tearing yourself up about this isn't going to undo it."

"I've meddled with time too many times to count," she muttered bitterly. "What's one more time. I'll just pop back into my cozy little cell and this time I think I'll take a nap instead of saving innocent lives."

"No matter what you say to me, Hermione, you know you did the right thing that night. You _know_ it."

More fiddling with the fire. "No one else does."

"I do, your friends do."

Now, Hermione finally set down the poker. She picked listlessly at the smooth material of her comforter, now soaked with the heat of the fire, and continued to look downwards. "Are we really friends?" She said emotionlessly. Now she did raise her eyes and meet his.

"I'd like to think so," he answered honestly.

"I know nothing about you," she countered.

"On the contrary, you know a great deal about me. You're Miss Future Girl," his attempt at lightening the conversation fell short.

"I know your name, your family history – none of it because you told me, and none of it what's really important to know." She shook her head at him and dropped her head again. "I don't even know your favorite color."

"You know..." he said slowly, as if unsure whether or not he should say what he was about to. "Lily said the same thing to me a few days ago."

Hermione's following chuckle was lifeless. "She's a smart witch; I'm not surprised she noticed it."

James scrutinized her, digging his elbows into his knees as he sat cross legged and setting his chin on his fists. "Are you really serious about this?"

She made a strange noise, and in tossing back her head her chocolate curls caught the firelight and turned auburn as the spilled down over the straps of her nightgown. "I must sound crazy." She laughed and it was depressing sounding. "You know I haven't even told Ron or Harry that I haven't been sleeping...I mean, I guess they figured it out, but I haven't told them why."

She shrugged, "Maybe I just shared it with you because you look so much like Harry, and I needed that friendly face, but a different reaction than the one I knew would come from him. That's hardly what I'd call a friendship – passing you off as my best friend," Hermione sighed, and fiddled with the golden poker handle as if considering resuming her fire tending. "Maybe you used your power on me. Maybe it was just the right time and place and you just happened to be sitting there instead of an empty couch..."

"Or maybe," James countered. "It's because you knew that one of us needed to take this first step."

When she didn't say anything, he looked up at her obscured profile, and not until he leaned to the side did he see her crumpled face and the saline trails. He touched her shoulder, knocking back some curls, and kneeled over her in concern. "Hermione, what's the matter?!"

"I'm a bad person," she sobbed, throwing herself at him. "But I...don't wanna be. I don't wanna be baaaad." Her hyperventilating breaths were punctuated by alternating sobs and hiccups as she tried to get out the words through her hysterics.

"What are you talking about?" He exclaimed, unsure of whether to pat her on the back or hug her or what. "You're not a 'bad person'!"

"I _am!_" She insisted, crying into his shoulder. "I do terrible and...and _wicked_ things, a-and that's why...that's why." She sobbed the loudest ever, and James threw embarrassment to the wind and hugged her tightly.

"That's why God sent me to t-that..._awful_ place. I'm a a s-sinner," she whispered, thickly. "I don't _deserve_...t-to be saved."

James felt his own eyes inexplicably watering. This amazing young woman who had done nothing short of miracles to protect those around her, thought God had abandoned her because of something that was beyond her control. If God had forsaken _her_, then what hope was there for the rest of them.

"I didn't ask for this," she insisted through her tears. "Just Hermione...that's all, all I wanted. I d-don't want to be alone, James..." Her sobs came full circle again, and she nearly screamed. "I don't want to be bad, anymore."

He rocked her in his arms, over and over again, as if there was nothing else in the world to do but that. He rubbed her back and whispered comforting sounds into her ear as she cried out in blind desperation for the god she believed to have forsaken her. It hurt his heart and stung his eyes, and all he could make were sounds through the lump in his throat.

"I never meant t-to make him angry," she choked. "N-Never m-meant to be something evil..."

"No!" James hissed fiercely, squeezing her painfully tight. "No, Hermione. I don't ever want to hear those words out of your mouth." She cried wordlessly into his shoulder. "You. Are not. _Evil._ Do you understand me? Voldemort is evil, Hermione, and you _are not_ him."

Her heart-wrenching sounds had died out, but tremors still shook her body and her silently crying face pressed wetly against his t-shirt.

"Do you understand me?" He demanded, emotion making his jaw lock.

For a long moment, Hermione did nothing but cling to him and tremble, but then – very slowly – she nodded against him.

"Good," his throat stuck.

He held her until she pulled away and then handed her the corner of her comforter to wipe her eyes on. With subdued sniffling, she cleaned herself up and wrapped the blanket around her – feeling suddenly colder. Neither of them said anything until Hermione had leaned herself against James and murmured a soft "thank you".

He smiled, and reached over to tuck the puffy covers tightly around her chin, making her look all the more ridiculous in her blanket cocoon. "Everything's gonna be alright, you'll see. That's a Marauder's promise."

Hermione smiled wanly at this and looked softly up at him. "Does this mean we're _really _friends now?"

His face broke out in a wide grin that made Hermione's sad heart lift and a smile to grow on her own face. "If not then I just let some random stranger leak all over my _favorite_ t-shirt."

She giggled and patted his damp shirt apologetically. "Sorry, James."

He gave her a winning smile and waved it off as nothing.

"Do you think I could become friends with Lily?" She asked.

"I think she'd like that a lot." James answered sincerely and tweaked her nose. "You guys are pretty similar, you know?"

Hermione thought of Harry's mum, and smile widely. "That's more of a compliment than you know," she murmured.

James shrugged indifferently, deciding not to press her on it, and threw his arms over the back of the couch enjoying the view of the fireplace that had drawn him from his dorm bed in the first place.

Hermione was enjoying the playing flames as well. The blasting furnace was comforting in more ways than one and she was glad it was there in addition to James. She was imagining the fire dancing to the sound of its own pops and sizzles when James' voice broke through her thoughts and their camaraderic silence.

"Green."

Wiggling her head out a bit from her comfy blanket, she looked at him curiously. "Green what?"

"That's my favorite color."

* * *


	25. XXIV A New Day

**Completed: **1/29/05 8:51 pm

**Posted: **1/29/05 9:00 pm

A/N: This definitely isn't as long as I would've liked, but I was super busy today, and since I did promise to get something out today here 'tis. The next one I'm planning on being SUPER long, so don't expect it by tomorrow morning, lol. Tomorrow is going to involve massive cleaning of the house on my part (including the bathroom, ick!), plus the homework I've put off to shop, and styling to do for Monday.

---

_Next Chapter:_ (Though, I don't really like doing this because I'm afraid of not being able to fulfill it, I do have some promises): The rest of Hermione & Remus' day flirty romance, plus the septuplet's day of fun and it's not where you'd expect.

_ETP:_ (Again, I'm loathe to estimate. This week is full of tests, so my best guess is): Saturday the 5th. pray for earlier

---

"Hermione...wake up."

She groaned at the sudden infiltration of a dream that had, until that point, been quite lovely, and snuggled deeper into the warmth of her comforter in hopes that by simply ignoring it the voice would go away.

"Dreaming about me...I understand."

"Why yes, of course..." Hermione mumbled, patting blearily above her head for her pillow to bury her face under. "Always dream 'bout you."

It was then that she realized there was _no_ pillow, this was _not _her bed, and she must have fallen asleep last night after her conversation with James.

"I hope you've cast me as the dashing hero – I have much too much talent to be a mere _cameo_..." The voice was saying quiet seriously.

"No," she grumbled, pulling her blankets around her head. "Right now you're the terribly wicked antagonist...keeping the mansion's maid from her beauty sleep."

"Maid, what maid?" The voice mocked offended. "I only see the gorgeous princess – wake up sleeping beauty, wake up!"

Hermione cracked one eye open, already starting to smile, and then the other to take in Remus Lupin's grinning face crouched before her. Still clinging to the faint hope that there was still a chance for her to sleep longer, she remained huddled in her blankets on the couch as she regarded him.

"You do a lovely Sirius," she complimented and her voice was a bit hoarse from sleep.

Remus bowed gallantly, as well one was able when balanced on the balls of their feet, and folded his arms over the edge of the couch. "Why thank you. I can do Lily too, if you'd be so kind as to find me a mop and a banana."

Hermione laughed. "Maybe another time."

She sat up, finally giving up on the possibility of actually sleeping in on a Saturday, seeing as how that was an outlandish and foreign practice here at Hogwarts, and yawned loudly and unselfconsciously as she stretched her arms over her head. "What are you doing up?" She asked, patting away her yawn.

"Ha ha! I myself have mastered the wonders of a muggle alarm clock," he boasted, though looking ridiculous with his soft brunette hair falling all over and in his eyes.

"How ingenious of you," she laughed and then promptly covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm so proud" came out in a muffle through her fingertips.

Remus quirked an eyebrow in curiosity at her odd behavior and gave her a poke in the stomach in hopes of stimulating a response or explanation.

"I have morning breath." Game the garbled reply.

Half-crawling over the arm of the couch, and with quite dexterity as she refused to take one hand off her mouth, Hermione finally grabbed her wand off the side table, and while still at an obscure angle of Remus' sight, scourgyfied her mouth.

When she slid back down into her seat she was smiling; all teeth and puckering dimples. He gave her a silly double thumbs-up, making her laugh. "I understand your wanting to boast of your newfound sleep controlling powers, but why was waking _me _up part of the plan?"

Remus pouted and it caused more of his hair to fall over into his eyes. "I figured you'd wanna help me wake the others..."

Mischievous thoughts entered her head, and her grin was mirrored on Remus' face. "Let's go have some fun with 'em," she decreed, wrapping her blanket around her to hold in the rapidly escaping warmth, and standing up.

Looking utterly ridiculous in her gold fluffy comforter-cape, Hermione shuffled towards the boys' dormitory steps and Remus fell into step beside her trying his hardest not to laugh. If Hermione heard the bit back snickers she either didn't care, or was pointedly ignoring him.

"Hey Remus," she said as they started up the winding stairs; her hands clutching her blanket shut and his stuffed in his trouser pockets.

"Yeah?"

"Did you know James' favorite color is green?"

Remus looked sidelong at her with a puzzled expression, but her eyes were stubbornly fixed on the stairs above them. Shaking his head a bit, he shrugged and looked upwards as well. "Yeah, I did."

When he sneaked another look at her then, he found her to be smiling softly, her cheeks flushed with rosy color and the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Me too," she said quietly and disappeared into the dorm he hadn't realized they'd reached.

Now with a slight curiosity, he pushed open the half-shut door and followed Hermione in. He was just in time to see her fling herself onto Ron's bed to be followed by groggy death threats from the redhead sprawled out beneath the covers.

"Come back for more, eh pigeon?"

Hermione rolled laughing off of the griping Ron and onto her side to face the bed beside hers. She pushed the curtains back and looked at Sirius, who was already up and about and getting dressed. He sat with his back to her as he tugged on his boots, but at the sound of the curtain rings clinking he looked back over his shoulder at her with a melting smirk.

"I tried," she insisted in a wistful voice. "Both my bed and the couch, but nothing could compare..."

Sirius snapped his fingers at Remus and the half-asleep James, then pointed to Hermione. "Are you listening to this?"

Hermione tossed her head, spilling a few curls over her eyes, and, giving him a seductive look one only saw in the movies, licked her coral lips. "I can't sleep without you, Sirius Black."

"Eloping it is then!" Sirius declared jumping to his feet. "Frankly, I'd have preferred it that way, but it was of course the lady's choice."

Hermione fought to keep laughter from wiping clear her "come hither" look as the shirtless Sirius plopped down next to her, and before she could sit up, had propped his elbow up on the curve of her side as she lay still facing his now abandoned bed.

"This only proves out timeless love."

Sirius's batting eyes and flipping of his long hair made Remus gag, and walk over to James' bed where the raven-haired boy was turned completely around under the sheets, his head hanging over the footboard and his snitch toy hugged humorously between his feet. He'd fallen back asleep.

While Sirius was attempting to sound poetic, Hermione was ever down to earth and analytical. "But honey bunch," she cooed. "What happens if the spell wears off and you get sent back. I'd be ever so devastated," she sniffed pathetically.

"Nonsense, darling." Sirius waved the doubt away. "It's one of your spells; they don't come any stronger. You're stuck with me, pigeon."

Those words struck a cord in Hermione's mind and she recalled a conversation with Remus that contained promises very close to those. Shifting under Sirius' bony elbow, she glanced back, searching to find Remus standing on top of James bed. He looked as if he'd just been in the middle of casting a most likely revenge-worthy charm upon his sleeping friend, but when she found her eyes drawn to his face she saw him already looking back.

She grinned at him, and he smiled warmly back in a way that actual made the tips of her toes curl and tingle with heat. She rolled her eyes in Sirius' direction and he laughed silently.

"What ho!"

Hermione's attention ricocheted back to Sirius in surprise at his outburst. He was looking at Remus in such a pompous fashion that the next words Hermione expected out of his mouth would be 'shall we duel?'. Instead he said "Oogling my fiancée, Remus? My own best friend."

"She was the one 'oogling'," Remus explained. "I was only 'oogling' in return so as not to be rude."

Sirius looked down at the giggling Hermione, aghast, and she tried to quickly school her features into one of innocence. "Is this _true_?"

"I can't help it, uh, squishy bear." Behind Sirius, Remus made a face at the nickname. "I mean, just look at him. He's so lean and handsome..." Hermione lowered her voice a bit as if divulging some hidden desire. "And I've always...sort of had a thing for brunettes."

Sirius clutched his cut as if he'd been spitted by a sword, he gasped and a pained look came to his face. "Oh," he breathed dramatically. "I see where your affections lie..."

Motion behind her caused Hermione to look back at Remus and she found the young lycan to be winking roguishly at her and making a show of flexing his arms. Then he incorrigibly mocked his friend by silently sniveling and rubbing his fists babyishly into his eyes. Hermione could not help the giggle that escaped her.

"What's this?!" Sirius exclaimed, and when he whirled around Remus was grinning cheekily at him. Hermione saw this and pulled her comforter up to cover her laughing mouth.

"Here I am, trying to work out the problems in _our _relationship and you're drooling over _another_ man," Sirius ranted, though Hermione and Remus were laughing too hard for the situation to be remotely serious.

"Oi!" Came the disgruntled noise from behind them. "All of you can shut your gobs."

Pushing a clingy Sirius off her and in the process calling him a 'big oaf', Hermione sat up and though hugging the large lump that was Ron may have been awkward, it looked quite amusing.

"Aww, did we wake ickle Ronniekins up?"

"And he should be," came a voice from the doorway. Lily appeared in the archway as she pushed the door back against the wall. "The door was open."

"By all means, come in," Ron said sarcastically, head now poked out from beneath his covers. "We're having a regular old party."

Hermione frowned and swatted at him. "Someone sure is cranky in the mornings."

"Remus! Get down from there!" Lily demanded of a sheepish Remus, who obligingly hopped off the bed.

"That idiot boyfriend of mine might have deserved whatever you were about to do to him, but we have a schedule to keep remember? And hexing him will only result in him hexing you back and by the time you're all through proving you're men we'll have lost have the day!"

Hermione stared at the pretty redhead, standing with her hands on her hips as she lectured Remus, and though amused by the proceedings, her curiosity had been piqued. "Schedule?" She said with a questioning lilt. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Just go and ruin the surprise, Lily." James was now awake too. Giving a suspicious look at his hovering friend, who quickly stuffed his wand back up his sleeve, he kicked back his covers -- coincidentally covering up the stuffed snitch -- and swung his feet over the side of the bed to sit up.

Lily, looking a bit flustered, crossed her arms now over her chest, and huffed "She was bound to find out anyway. Not a single Marauder can keep a secret."

"Sounds to me like you're the one who can't keep the secrets," Remus quipped; though his mouth closed with a 'click' as the redhead turned a full-blast glare on him.

"Ponce," Sirius muttered under his breath.

"Harry?" Hermione called -- to the one boy not yet awake.

"I'm up."

The curtains behind her shifted and she saw the messy haired boy sit up, looking as bright and fresh as though he'd been awake for quite some time. She frowned a bit at the intense look he was giving her.

"We're going to have a day of fun!" Sirius cut in, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "Any suggestions?"

Hermione gingerly picked his hand off her shoulder and placed it back on the bedspread. "I'd love to, really you guys," she insisted, crawling off the bed and knotting her blanket around her waist. "But there's a Head-Prefect meeting, and it's likely to take all day."

"Oh..." Lily frowned a bit, and turned the discouraged look on another. "Remus never mentioned that..."

"I forgot," he mumbled, stuffing his hands back into his pockets to avoid Lily's evil eye.

"Tsk," James sounded. "Our scholarly friend is following into disrepute." To this, Remus sent him a solid glaring frown and contemplated hexing him after all.

Hermione however cut through it all with one look at Remus' muggle clock. "Actually, I ought to go be getting ready," she mused aloud. Kicking back the train of her dragging blanket so that she was able to walk without tripping and quite embarrassingly hurting herself, she patted Sirius' head in passing as she moved to the door.

"Hey, Remus," she said after a sudden thought stopped her halfway through the doorway. "Do you think you could stop by my room when you're done getting ready? I want to run through a bit of the itinerary and sort a right portion of the information I want to present out."

"Sure," Remus agreed; nodding his head as he did so.

"Thanks," she grinned and disappeared out the doorway.

---

When Remus arrived at Hermione's Head Girl rooms a while later, the gold be-decked room was empty, though he could warrant a guess at Hermione's location judging by the sound of steady water flow coming from her bathroom door. Setting his bag down on her still mussed bed, he discovered a folded piece of parchment with his name scrawled on the front in her distinct cursive.

He flipped it open to find it contained less than he'd anticipated.

_Make yourself at home._

Stuffing the note into his pocket he looked around for a chair and found the nearest one to be placed in front of the currently unlighted vanity. He'd already gripped the back of it and had started pulling it back to Hermione's bedside, when he spied a book cracked open in front of the high mirror.

He knew he shouldn't, but in Hermione's own script he caught his name just as he began to turn. With a quick glance to ensure that Hermione wasn't about to come bounding out of the bathroom any time soon, he set the chair back down and leaned over the makeup table.

_I know Harry and Ron wouldn't ever bring it up, but I feel there's still a gap between the seven of us. After the incident with Sirius, I couldn't help but want to be alone with just them and not have to work at including the four of them. I suppose I compensated for the fact by just being myself with Harry and Ron, without worrying about how they'd think. Right now, I can't seem to make myself care about their opinions of me, because they're just not important in comparison to my friends. After all, we're not really friends are we? _

_Oh, I don't know. _

_Ron and Harry both think I ought to give Remus and Sirius the chance, but there's just so many complications, and what with everything going on, I hardly know either of them. It was clear after tonight that they knew nothing of me, either. I assume they misinterpreted my relationship with Harry, judging by the way they were glaring like angry chimeras at me. _

_I don't think they could ever understand how much Ron and Harry mean to me--_

Remus jumped as there came a crash from inside the bathroom, and he hastily stumbled back from the vanity dragging the chair. It knocked the vanity drawers and made bottles on the tabletop rattle. He could hear Hermione cursing from behind the door, but it sounded as though she'd merely gotten her brush caught in a knot.

There was an insistent desire to read back to find out what the "incident with Sirius" she'd mentioned had been about, but with his adrenaline now racing and the sound of the shower now gone, he forced himself to sit down by the bed and get busy with the papers she'd set out.

The leather bound book taunted him, sitting wide open beside the make-up containers that seemed hardly used, and he couldn't help but wonder if she'd miss it if it were to suddenly "disappear".

He was saved from temptation however, when Hermione finally emerged from the steamy bathroom, running a towel through her damp curls.


	26. XXV Meetings

**Completed:** 2/6/05 11:59 PM

**Posted:** 2/7/05 12:05 PM

* * *

Hermione had thoughtfully remembered to bring her clothes into the loo beforehand, and thus save the both of them from quite an embarrassing scene, and became increasingly proud of her foresight upon exiting the steamy room and finding a surprisingly devoted Remus already digging through the parchments for the up and coming meeting.

It being Saturday, the school uniform had been requisitioned by the doting house elves and Hermione was in charge of dressing herself. Ginny would probably have had a fit, but Hermione didn't think she'd done too terribly bad this time.

Her jumper was a rather flattering rust-color even if its thickness made it a bit bulky, and her white corduroys fit so absolutely perfect that she thought she ought to petition for them to become part of the standard uniform.

Her hair, however, was another matter, and she cursed it even while binding it to a pile atop her head. "I'm gonna cut it off, I swear," she muttered, sinking down onto the bed.

"Excuse me?" Remus asked in surprise.

"My hair," she groused, trying to insist through her voice that it wasn't that big a deal. "So, I see you found the papers."

"What's wrong with your hair?" He was clearly not to be deterred. And he _did_ seem generally interested, going so far as to lay the stack of papers back on the bed and prop his chin up on his hand.

"It's always in my face...can't see anything properly." She huffed her bangs up exasperatedly in demonstration.

Remus laughed at her pout as the damp locks fell back over her eyes. "I thought you didn't like people being able to see your face," he commented contemplatively. Remus shrugged. "At least that was the truth when you said it at the Three Broomsticks."

Bringing her legs up underneath her, Hermione stuffed her fists into her leg-folded lap and quirked her head at him. "Can you _really_ tell if someone's lying or not?" she asked, curiously.

"Uhp, uhp, uhp!" Remus reproached, waggling a finger at her. "Stop trying to change the subject."

"Fine," she griped. "Me first, then you."

"_Fine_," he repeated, echoing her tone. "If you're a good little Gryffindor, I'll tell you all the best tales of my great and wondrous power."

"Fine," she grumbled one last time while shifting to readjust herself and pull free the parchment scrap she'd inadvertently sat upon. Leaning back on one hand, she tapped her finger to her chin. "Why do I want to cut my hair off..."

"Yes, that was the question," Remus quipped cheekily.

"Well, you see...I was thinking of donating it to newborn babies – they're quite bald you know. All they get are those little hats..."

"Hermione..." Remus warned her to stay on track, but a smile was working its way onto his face.

"Freezing babies, Remus!" she shot back.

He had to fight not to laugh. "Hermione!" he tried on insisting.

"You know, people would kill to have my hair!" One long finger jabbed him pointedly in the chest.

"Yeah?" he laughed. "_Who_?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"It's too long, apparently." The prefect shielded his face from the Head Girl's stony glare.

"Oh, yes!" she said, instantly brightening. "I'd forgotten. So! What _is_ your power like?"

She was forcing the topic change and Remus knew it. He was also fairly certain she knew it as well. He was about to tell her off for trying to distract him again, but there was something in the way she was looking at him...beneath her wide smile and cheery façade was a raw need and desperation for him to...to just _let it go_.

And he did.

"Well, not to shortchange _yours_ or anything," he drawled. "But it _is_ pretty fantastic."

She giggled, but rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Let's hear it then."

"I can tell when you're being truthful and when you're being false."

"So you know when I've been 'bad or good'?" She repeated for clarification.

Remus nodded, trying to look wise before he went and ruined it by cracking a wry grin. "I can also see you when you're sleeping," he boasted.

"_Funny_." She smacked him on the arm. "You're saying you can..."sense" what I say?"

Remus looked a bit apprehensive and the reason was revealed as he went on. "And what you do and think."

Hermione was silent, fiddling with her hands in her lap as the moisture from her hair rand down her neck and soaked into the thick woolen weave of her jumper's collar.

"So...you can read my mind?" She ventured slowly.

"No, no!" he professed quickly, waving his hands in front of his face as if the knock her misconception out of the air. "Nothing like that! I can't see what you're thinking, only find whether that thought is false of not."

She eyed him a moment, and then, in a startlingly loud voice, answered. "_Riiight_." Settling back, she wiggled a bit and rolled her head around on her neck. "What am I thinking _right now_?"

Recovering from her reaction of unexpected comedy, Remus frowned a bit at her request, but as he so often found himself doing in the strange girl's presence, a smile was tugging at his mouth as Hermione let out a great large breath and placed her hands on her knees as if meditating.

"I'm ready," she said in a deep bass, and laughed herself at the sound of it.

"What are you thinking..."

"Yes, that's the question," she mocked, peeking one eye open impishly. "But now, now. Don't cheat dear Remus. Stop asking for clues."

She had closed her eyes again, straightening her back in preparation of whatever it was she thought was coming, but her lips pursed and twitched upwards in a wry grin as she waited.

"You're thinking...about abandoning this whole Head business and...taking a walk with me down by the lake."

Hermione's eyes opened and the look in those honey orbs was soft as they focused on him. "And is this..._thought_ of mine true or false?" She asked with a smile.

Remus leaned against the side of her bed, folding his arms over the replaced comforter; coming just short of touching Hermione's bare feet. "I've done my share," he said. "I think I'll let you take this one."

Hermione let her hands slip into her lap as she regarded his patiently awaiting face. Those insufferable bangs had fallen back into his face again, but Hermione found they made his face all the more endearing for it. But that thought, that made her fingers itch, also made her stomach knot and reminded her of the consequences she'd forgotten with Sirius.

It seemed she had forgotten them again, because it was not for fear of the rest of the world that stopped her, but the doubt inside her mind. In matters of the heart, her strength was dismal at best.

When the Marauders left; and they would...

Hermione cleared her throat and the smile she gave him was wane at best. "We should get to work."

Remus pulled back his arms and moved off the edge of his seat. "Yeah," he pulled a sheaf of parchments into his lap and began sorting through them.

"Yeah..."

* * *

A half hour later, when the slightly more subdued pair made their way through Hermione's adjoining door, down the spiral staircase, and into the Heads' common room, they met with an all too familiar sight.

The three years of prefects for Hufflepuff, Fravenclaw, and Gryffindor were sitting on the floor. Taking up the scattered armchairs and davenports were the Slytherin prefects, leaving no room in their lounged states for the others. Stretched out in the center couch was the ringleader, Draco Malfoy himself, who had (regrettably) been instated that year as Head Boy.

"Stop being a prick, Malfoy," Hermione said as she crossed the room and set her load of papers onto the coffee table.

Malfoy didn't say anything; he never did. He merely lifted his head a bit and gave her a look she'd figured he'd created just for her; a threatening look that made her instinctively watch the shadows as she walked through the corridors.

However, as he was already on probation from Dumbledore for "accidentally" leaving a crate of red caps destined for Hagrid's in the hallway, he straightened up and moved to one side of the lounged couch so she could sit. It wouldn't have been so bad for Malfoy if the crate's lock hadn't been undone _somehow_ – they'd broken loose and stormed a first years' Charms class.

Hermione sat down primly, crossing her legs, and looked pointedly at the Slytherin prefects. Pansy hissed at her. Malfoy did, however, snap his fingers at his two fifth years and they obediently slinked off their respective chairs.

Unlike Malfoy, Hermione held no preference of who should get the chairs and they were quickly filled by Colin Creevey and Parvati Patil; everyone else conjured themselves floor pillows and got comfortable.

"Let's begin with the House totals," Hermione dictated in a loud voice. "Hufflepuff."

The fifth years were the ones in charge of the most dimple and menial tasks, so the two rather shy Hufflepuffs looked between them before the boy, Luke Princeton, answered.

"Eighty-nine house points."

"Do you have the recordings?" Draco's icy voice made the scrawny boy blanche.

"I do." The Hufflepuff female, Ashley McCoughlin, handed over the rolled parchment to Hermione, who gave it a quick cursory scan before laying it on the table.

"Slytherin."

A girl with a pixieish face said "a hundred'n twenty" proudly, with a coquettish look to Draco who gave a minor smirk. Her partner handed over the recording parchment that showed what had been done to gain or lose points.

Hermione scanned this one a great deal longer, looking for discrepancies. When she found none, she _calmly_ set it down beside the first.

"Ravenclaw."

Evan Carter, the Ravenclaw fifth, glumly announced the secondary score of "a hundred'n one", and Hermione accepted his parchment with a sympathetic smile. His partner, Ivy Hart, patted him comfortingly on the back.

"Gryffindor."

Gwen Harken, a young spitfire that Hermione was quite proud of, tossed her dark brown hair over her shoulders and handed Hermione the parchment without a word.

"Hundred eleventy," she murmured, looking apologetic. At Hermione's sudden expression of surprise, the girl shrugged and sat back down beside Ares VanMar.

Malfoy was beside himself, a smirk so wide upon his face he looked nearly demented. The prefects were whispering mockingly between one another. Hermione gathered up the recording rolls and placed them in her bag, taking enough time to set her off of killing Malfoy.

_Well...Slytherin wouldn't be in the lead much longer._

"Right," she cleared her throat. "The next order of business is the up-and-coming Halloween Ball. Suggestions?"

"A costume ball!" Ashley suggest brightly.

"Masquerades are so trite," Jezabelle Meyer, the Slytherin sixth argued, drumming long black nails on the arm of her overstuffed chair.

"But _romantic_," Ginny countered.

"I agree with Jezabelle," Hermione said, causing the younger redhead to pout. "The tradition of masquerade balls is outdated and overused, and we won't be using it again."

"But-" Ginny protested.

"Think of something else, Weasley!" Draco snapped irritably.

"Thank you, Draco," Hermione said dryly. "Are there any _other_ suggestions?"

"If it's a theme we're going for," Justin Finch-Fletchley spoke up. "Then we should decide on that first before doing anything else."

Draco nodded brusquely and beat Hermione to the punch in levitating a clean piece of parchment and bewitching it to transcribe. He may have a soul blacker than soot, but he took his position seriously.

Prefects began shouting out ideas.

"Venice," was the first, from the flirty Slytherin fifth, Preston Linae.

"Great idea, Prissy," Pansy complimented before delivering one of her own. "Palace."

Not wanting the Slytherins to dominate the list of a ball they'd all be forced to attend the other houses joined in.

"A forest," was Livia Callistan's input; the Ravenclaw sixth.

From her partner, Antony Minas: "Tropical island."

"Nice, Italy."

"Spain."

"Ooh! Ancient _Rome_!" Squealed Hannah Abbot.

"Yes, but you'll be putting up all those pillars personally," Hermione muttered under her breath, clearly not favoring the idea.

"France, maybe Paris?"

"I heard from my cousin that New York was _really_ cool," Colin animatedly suggested, fishing out a wizarding picture of "the big city" to show Remus sitting next to him.

"Haunted house!"

Theodore Nott growled at the young Weasley with disgust. "Do you even know what the word 'trite' means? You Weasleys are as lacking in brains as you are in money."

Hermione ground her teeth and her nails dug into the trousered calf that was folded up beside her. "Let it go, Ginny." Her voice, hard with authority stopped the rising girl and her solid stare lowered the seething redhead back onto her floor cushion.

Fingers crushed her hand back, as Draco berated his subordinate. "Keep your mouth shut, Nott. If you keep me here any longer than necessary I'll break your legs."

Hermione frowned at Malfoy. "Thanks for your positive encouragement."

He shot another of "the looks" at her, using it to bite back his retort. Instead, he said. "Let's get on with the vote then." She nodded, holding up her hand to gather their silence. A sharp look from Draco quieted the Slytherins as well. They each played a part.

Hermione read through the list, pausing at each idea to count the number of hands in the air. When she reached the end the themes had been narrowed down to two: New York and the enchanted forest.

"Draco and I will discuss it and make the final decision. We'll have another meeting Monday after classes to announce the theme and decide on the details." Hermione announced.

"Right now, to make the best of our time we're going to move on," Draco explained. The prefects nodded their understanding. "Now," he went on. "Who the fuck has been skipping patrol?"

* * *

"Meeting adjourned."

As the prefects filtered out of the Heads' common room and out into the hallway, Hermione motioned for Remus to stay behind and turned back to Draco to finish things up. Deciding to make himself useful, Remus began gathering together all the papers and banishing the rumpled cushions off the floor, all the while keeping half an ear open to the conversation going on behind him.

"What's your pick?" Hermione was asking.

"They both suck."

Hands massaged throbbing temples. "Well, which one 'sucks' less?"

"No need to be tart, Granger," he admonished. "They're both terrible suggestions, but I vote New York for the sake of forgoing furry woodland creatures."

"I agree," Hermione concurred. "It also gives us more options to work with."

"Whatever. You can deal with the plans." Draco toed the stack of scrolls by his feet over to her side.

"We still need to present the revisions on the Hogsmeade policy and the budget analysis," Hermione reminded him. She gave Remus an aside "thank you" as he shrunk the growing mound of paper work and deposited it into her satchel.

"I can take the Hogsmeade bit," Draco said, finding more interest in scrutinizing his nails. "But Dumbledore will want us both there for the budget meeting."

"Alright." And Hermione slung her bag onto her shoulder signifying the end of the meeting. "If you need something for the presentation leave me a note on the board."

The board was the standing tack board positioned upright in the corner of the vast common room, where the prefects left notices and questions for the Heads and was used to avoid any direct contact between Hermione and Draco. Their entire business was conducted through notes and owls, save when they were required to preside over the prefect meetings. It had worked well so far.

Hermione walked to where Remus waited, head bent as she searched through her pockets for the note Ginny had handed her before she'd left. She scanned it quickly, and then stuffed it back into her pocket.

_We need to talk about the Marauders. Ron._

"I see you haven't gotten over your infatuation with the mudblood, Lupin," Malfoy's casual tone carried silkily across the common room.

There was no room for embarrassment beside the pulsing anger that hit the Gryffindor prefect. Malfoy was the sole focus of his attention, and not even Hermione's restraining hand on his shoulder kept his fists from clenching. "Take that back, Malfoy," Remus hissed through clenched teeth.

Hermione whispered for him to let it go, but Draco's voice was louder. "_Please_ – you think I'm afraid of _you_. Personally, I'd be worried about standing so close to that demon of yours."

Hermione's hand slipped so suddenly from his shoulder it caused Remus to turn to her in concern. "What did you call me?" She whispered in disbelief.

Draco stood up, hands slipping into his pockets as he adopted more of a pose than a standing position. "Nothing you haven't already heard in the halls I'm sure."

When Hermione's incredulous appearance didn't change, Draco barked a cruel, cold laugh. "It seems our fellow students have done a better job of hiding it than usual." He sneered at her, "You didn't _really_ think they'd just welcome you back with open arms, did you? If you did, then I've sorely overestimated your intelligence, Granger."

"And I've underestimated your callousness," Hermione replied; bravely in Remus' opinion. "You'd say anything to spite others."

His half-lidded eyes gave him an almost lazy and relaxed look, but the sky blue hue in his eyes was lined with ice; a hidden danger. He licked his lips to wet them before curving them into the elongated 's' of a smirk, and replied with a morbid sense of amusement. "And isn't it always the truth that causes the most pain...?"

Remus tensed beside her, but before she grabbed his hand her last words were directed to the smooth-faced Malfoy. "Fancy being a ferret again?" She hissed, making for the door with Remus' hand in hers.

One eyebrow rose tauntingly, when in contrast the ice over the blue eyes beneath thickened warningly. "Is that a threat?" The tone in which the question was delivered sounded light, but the implications beneath it were clear to the retreating Hermione. She wisely reigned in her temper and delivered the two Gryffindors to the safety of her bedroom, leaving a smirking Malfoy behind with a slam of the door.

For once, the soothing golden hues of her room did nothing to comfort her; instead, mercilessly leaving her with her troublesome thoughts. Remus was far better at concealing his emotions at the moment than her, and he took up his stance in the space between her bed and dresser, looking infinitely less burdened than she as she paced across the room. Unable to dispel the feelings that plagued her through sheer walking, Hermione settled back upon the bed, using the ornately carved post as support for her head.

"The truth" she murmured, almost to her herself it seemed. "I can't believe Malfoy was telling the truth."

Not knowing if he should comfort her or give her space, Remus hesitated in his movement towards her and chose words over contact. "You don't know that for certain. Besides, there aren't any whispers that get by me."

Hermione sighed. In her despondence, she laced and twined her fingers in odd patterns then requiring her to stuff her palms between her knees to stop her own fidgeting. "Please don't lie, Remus. It's unbecoming."

Hermione was back on her feet again, but they would not carry her farther than Remus. "I saw your reaction when Malfoy said it. You were 'reading' his words, I know it."

"I truly haven't heard those things, Hermione. I swear it" he insisted.

Hermione nodded into her chest. "I believe you" she said, looking up.

Now he did reach to comfort her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "It's probably just the Slytherins anyhow. You know they weren't going to make this any easier for you."

"Yeah, I know..." Not wanting to step out of the Remus' reach, Hermione had to worm her arm up between their bodies at an odd angle, due to their close proximity, to rake back the wisps of damp hair that had fallen out of the knot on top of her head. "I'd feel better if I had any more idea of what was going on, but the way things are now...maybe they're right"

Looking down into her wide brown eyes, set in a face that was so much more innocent now than he'd ever seen it, Remus lost himself. Here, in her bedroom, her sanctuary, far away from the prying eyes of her peers and her own friends, and the troubles of the real world, her entire soul was laid bare and vulnerable for little more than a stranger. In that moment, Remus felt _so_ angry; so _so_ angry. Angry at the world that had corrupted this childlike innocence, rotting it away until it had flaked off like dead skin and left her hard and desensitized to the horror. He hated whatever is was that had made her into a girl who could switch between whatever persona best fit the situation and not care about the pieces of herself that slipped between the cracks. This Hermione was good and pure; above all the hatred that filled this time. She deserved better than what Fate had dealt her; deserved to be the innocent young girl that had walked through those huge doors six years ago.

She deserved the chance to be an eighteen year old girl.

"No, Hermione" He growled, only having to duck his head a bit to meet her eyes. "I don't want to hear you ever say that again. Do you understand me"

Hermione just gaped at him.

Thinking quickly, he looked around the room and came to a decision. "Come on" he said as he grabbed her hand. "We're taking that walk by the lake."

His tone left no room for argument and Hermione would have let him drag her across the country, but she dug her heels into the carpet yanking them both to a stop. Still, the boy pulled at her, but she clasped the wrist of the hand that held her own and begged him silently to stop.

"Please" she said. "I don't want to see them right now."

He looked back over his shoulder, hand on the doorknob, with a gentle smile that asked her to trust him. "Then get ready to run."

"REMUS" Hermione yelled as he shoved open the door and yanked her out from beneath the girls' stairwell at a dead sprint. Faces whizzed past in a blur of color and indiscernible features; though, Hermione was mostly trying to concentrate on not running into anything. It had been a fair span of time since she'd gone running, and having her guide as a werewolf didn't help things much.

Then they were out through the portrait door and down the corridor.

* * *

Back in the common room, everyone was staring at the Fat Lady as she swung back shut in mixes of disbelief and surprise. Ginny's jaw was dropped and she was still holding her hands up as if the Witch Weekly magazine she'd just been reading hadn't slipped from her fingers and spilled over the floor, putting a crease in the face of Broderick the Handsome.

"What...was _that_"

* * *

Their laughter bounding off the walls, Hermione and Remus finally slowed their head-first rush by the fifth floor, and strained to keep their sides from splitting. It was hard to even say what had caused the laughter, more that they were laughing for sake of it. It was started by the hilarity of their run through the common room, but once it had started, the laughter continued endlessly, almost desperately trying to brighten the spirits of the two teenagers.

"You're crazy" Hermione told him, holding her stomach with one hand as the other was currently occupied by Remus'.

"It got you laughing at least" he pointed out, leading them through a tapestry that would take them down to the main floor.

"Yeah" she dryly answered. In the dark of the secret passage she punched his leg with their joined hands. "Thanks for that. Oh, my jaw _aches_."

"Big baby" he teased.

"Besides" she went on. "I'm not sure I agreed to any moonlit trysts with you."

Remus rolled his eyes, though she couldn't see it, and lifted aside the painting that blocked the end of the staircase, holding it so that Hermione could follow him out. It was awkward with one hand, but he wasn't going to be the one to let go first. "It's four in the afternoon, and I hadn't planned on snogging, but if you really want..."

Hermione blushed, and had he been feeling particularly gentlemanly he might have looked away. But as it was...

"We'll save that thought for another day, eh"

The October air was cool and crisp against their cheeks and carried with it the poignant smell of the lake down the grounds from them. The damp grass soaked straight through their stocking feet, neither having taken the time or forethought to find shoes before their romp out into the corridors, and as their toes turned numb and cold they picked up their run again; holding tight to one another's hand and their arms flying behind them as they tried to maintain their balance down the steep slopes of Hogwarts' grounds.

They were laughing in mirth at the overcast sky as their ridiculous run was ended by the great trunk of an oak tree overlooking the lake. Remus attempted to slow down first, but Hermione slid straight into the tree laughing, bracing herself with the palm of her hand and nearly falling right over

"This is my favorite tree" her voice was nearly breathless. Her cheeks were rouged red from the cold wind, the run, and her giggles, and when she spoke to him through a grin he watched those pink cheeks dimple. Her gaze upon the old tree was fond and she ran a palm across the rough bark before looking back at him. "How did you know"

Remus moved up beside her and grabbed one of the low hanging branches to support his weight. "_This_, Hermione love, just so happens to be the _official_ Marauders' hangout."

"Oh _really_" Her face scrunched up impishly and then she disappeared, leaving his hand empty and cold.

He turned around in confusion but saw nothing of the brunette. "Hermione" He called out.

"Some wolf you are" her disembodied voice giggled. "Look up."

He did so, and found her grinning face peaking out of the autumnal shaded leaves of the oak tree. "Can you make it up yourself, or does wittle Remmy need a boost" She taunted in a babyish voice.

Rising to her challenge with a smirk, Remus grabbed hold of the branch over his head and with a strong move of his arms, swung himself up into the air with acrobatic ease. His feet hit the bobbing branch in a crouch, and he prolonged his grip of the thick limb until his balance was assured.

"Impressive" Hermione commended from her perch slightly higher than his own.

"You're regretting not snogging me now, aren't you"

Her hazel eyes danced in shadows of the foliage, but she didn't answer him. "We have to go higher; can't hardly see anything from down here."

Remus let her take the lead and watched her movements from behind. She'd discarded her wet socks by the trunk and her now bare feet were as much an asset to her climbing as her hands. She started out with a jerky, mechanical sort of rhythm, but as her body remembered the old oak tree Remus watched the young woman transform into an agile cat before his eyes. Not a single unnecessary movement was made, not a single muscle straining more than required to fulfill its job. Her back arched and the muscles in her thin shoulders rippled beneath the thick wool as lean arms pulled her to the next branch and her strong legs climbed up the trunk and swung up after her upper body to give her a better balance and purchase. Once in a while, her feline grace would falter, seen in the violent whipping of a branch or the hissed intake of breath as her feet scraped painfully against the bark. But then she'd remember herself and do his own climbing skills shame by slithering straight up the tree with seemingly no effort at all, and when they both reached the top it was the wolf who was out of breath.

Hermione settled herself into a 'v'-shaped crook in the branches, and bounced the branch beneath her feet to knock loose the bushel of red leaves blocking their view. She couldn't stop the goofy smile from appearing on her face.

From her vantage point she could see nearly all of Hogwarts' grounds. The lake was a stormy gray in the absence of sunlight, and the wind made the waters choppy and wild, each break upon the shore throwing up tiny bursts of white waters. On the far side, the tall sky-scraping evergreens of the forbidden forest rose like black shadows into the wispy clouds and their tops were reflected in the agitated waters. On the eastern side, where the lake diverted into a small willow-lined inlet, Hagrid's hut could be seen; pumpkins already reaching an impossible girth and the slightly lopsided smokestack spewing a steady charcoal train into the air. Oppositely, the southern corner of the castle could be seen, from the small viewing hole, to the west of the lake, and the flag of the school flapped briskly in the wind atop the tower.

"That sure is one hell of a view."

The voice was so close it could have been whispered into her ear. Hermione turned to look and saw that Remus had settled in to the 'v' beside her, and was now adjusting himself properly so he could sit and not fall out of the tree.

"Yeah. It's gonna rain."

"Probably." He grabbed an overhead branch for balance and leaned half out of the tree to look up at the sky.

"Stop that" She admonished. "You're giving me the willies."

Laughing, Remus acquiesced with her request and settled back in beside her. "It's cute that you're worried about my safety." He grinned and threw an arm over her shoulder.

She snorted. "Hardly. I just don't wanna have to be the one to explain to James how you broke your neck."

"So cold" he sulked sullenly.

"Remus..."

When he looked at her, he was met with her profile; scraggly curls falling over flushed cheeks.

"Why am I here, Remus" She turned her gaze to him and her honey eyes were dark in the half-light.

"I want to help you, Hermione. I'm here to talk if you need me" he told her sincerely.

Hermione gave a dry, humorless laugh and, shaking her head, looked back out over the lake instead of looking into those kind blue-gray eyes. "What do we possible have to talk about"

She kicked the branch again, albeit a bit more violently than necessary, and a shower of autumn-hued leaves rained down onto the slick grass. "There isn't anything I went through that you could possibly understand. No offense" she added as an afterthought as if she'd subconsciously worried over hurting his feelings.

"I know that" Remus answered without the slightest bit of hurt or anger in his voice. "But the offer's still there."

Hermione pulled one leg up to her chest and rested her chin over her knee. "Again, I ask 'about what'"

"Anything, whatever you want" he offered. "I like talking with you very much."

Giving a sigh that sounded more frustrated than relenting, Hermione's head sagged forward and she ran her fingers wildly back and forth through her hair in an effort to work through her anxiety. The action only succeeded in breaking the band that held her hair and the wet mess fell down around her shoulders and into her down-turned face. She was just growling in annoyance at the great misfortune that seemed to have befallen her, when Remus reached out to help her comb back the thick locks. With an effortless gesture, he tucked the hair behind her ear and then withdrew his hand like he hadn't done anything more than hand her a quill.

"We could talk about the ball" She suggest finally.

Remus made a face. "Boring."

"Hey! You said 'anything'" she exclaimed, shoving at his chest.

"And by 'anything', I meant 'anything that's not boring'" he said.

"Remus." She frowned at him. " 'Whatever you want', that's what you told me. You going back on that"

He pouted a bit, and Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to maintain her straight face. "No..." he finally grumbled.

Hermione smirked. "That's better..."

Remus grinned back.

Hermione folded her arms behind her head and leaned back against the tree branches and the arm Remus had stretched around her earlier. Blocking out everything else, she concentrated hard and watched the leaves around the window she'd created twitch spasmodically and then fall off the twigs, until she was able to see everything. She was getting the hang of this power that had been granted her, though she was still wary about using it.

She looked over at Remus, and wondered if he felt the same way. _Of course not_, she told herself. He seemed to have no qualms about reading Malfoy earlier, and his hesitations over Truth seemed just as minimal. She smiled at him, even if she had to force it at first, and went with a topic far safer.

"I grew up in Manchester with my mum and dad; muggle dentists" she told him, splaying her hands out in front of her for inspection. "And...my favorite candy is sugar quills."

Remus laughed loudly and uninhibitedly, flashing two rows of perfect, white teeth. "You do know those are pure sugar right" he chuckled, wiping at his eyes.

The corners of her eyes crinkled and she held a conspiratorial finger to her lips. "Just don't tell my parents."

"Chocolate's better you know..."

"You wish"

* * *

It didn't rain, and as the sun peeked out of the clouds long enough to begin to set, Hermione and Remus climbed out of the oak and headed for the castle in tune to their grumbling stomachs.

Dinner had just started when they walked into the Great Hall and took their seats at the end of the Gryffindor table with their friends, still continuing their conversation on potion ingredients.

"And why can't you combine essence of mugwort and porcupine quills?" Remus demanded as he sat down between James and Sirius, reaching to take the mashed potatoes out of the latter's hands. "Technically they should double to strength of the potion..."

"No..." Hermione was saying, as she took the seat across from him, beside Lily. "Technically they should blow up – and they do. Harry pass the biscuits, would you?"

"Well why would they blow up? That doesn't make sense..."

Hermione lifted an eyebrow as her knife slathered butter across her roll. "It would make sense if you were any good at potions."

"Ouch!" Sirius patted Remus sympathetically on the back. "Harsh, mate."

"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, Remus," she teased.

"That would be me," James suavely intervened, leaning across the table to smile charmingly at her.

Hermione was unimpressed. "You hide it well."

"Aren't you the wit master today," Ron commented, to which she stuck out her tongue.

"And your tie is dragging in the gravy," An equally apathetic Lily informed James before savagely beheading a stalk of asparagus.

While James cursed "bullocks" and implemented an emergency strategy where his plan of action was to bury his school tie in a cast of napkins, Sirius turned to interrogating the late arrivals.

"And where have the two of you been?" He asked. "Snogging in the Astronomy Tower?"

"The Library, more likely," Harry amended.

"There you go blabbing my secret fantasies again," Hermione joked. To Sirius she said: "We were just talking about some things, and the ball meeting ran kind of long – Malfoy being a prick and all."

"And that makes you a maiden in distress..." His dark blue eyes winked at her suggestively and she laughed with a flush in her cheeks.

"I'm hardly a maiden in any sense of the word and I'm fine now, though I'm sure there'll be more distress later on if you'd like a show."

"Actually," he drawled, twirling his fork in his hand and glancing casually up at the every changing ceiling. "I was thinking more along the lines of overwhelming devotion and gratitude."

Hermione smirked. "And why is that? What have you done for me lately?"

He tucked his hands behind his head and gave a smirk of his own. "Only worked out a few of the kinks in that prophecy you sent my way..."

"Really?" She looked surprised. "Forgive me if I don't shower you with gifts right away...I'd like to see what I'm getting in return first."

"I've got skills..."

Hermione nearly choked on her spaghetti she was laughing so hard. "James, tell you friend he's gonna drown in his ego pretty soon if he doesn't learn to dam it up."

"Hey! I am in the middle of a tie _crisis_ here," he gestured to the assuredly ruined tie. "Tell him yourself."

"You're in the middle of an idiot crisis," Sirius shot back.

"_Excuse_ me?"

"You heard me. I don't know why Lily bothers with a complete airhead like you."

"Well at least I don't look like a woman, you nancy-boy! Hair all the way down to my toes."

"I'll have you know, chicks _love_ my hair."

"_Really_? Do they have fun braiding it?"

"Does Lily still spell out words when she doesn't want you to hear what she's saying?"

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"Are you calling me a girl?"

"I think this friendship is over!"

"I concur!"

"Let us duel then!"

"Draw your weapon!"

While James and Sirius fought with their spoons over a madly grinning Remus making side-bets with Harry and Ron, and Lily started mumbling about what she ever saw James, Hermione sat back and watched it all with a smile on her face.

She was home.

* * *

A/N2:

Marquerida:

Here we go –

**Mornings:** Yes, the wake-upings seem to be getting a bit repetitive don't they? I don't usually plan on them all ending up in the boys dorm...they just sort of gravitate that way. What I have planned for the rest of it doesn't involve wake-ups, so if it does wander back in, feel free to beat me.

**Memories:** Why you intuitive little ducky you. How did you know I was bringing that up next chapter? I think you just have magical powers. The thing of it is, that with all those other things going on (ie: Azkaban) the reader's focus was on that, though all the while things were happening in the background that weren't actually brought forward and told to the readers. Bit sneaky that. We'll be finding out in the next few chapters just exactly what was going on

**Wand:** Oops! Even JK makes mistakes. That was just a bit of a faux pas on my part. Thanks for bringing to my attention though. (TO CLARIFY: she IS wandless)


	27. XXVI Old Beijing

**Completed:** 2/24/05 5:31 PM

**Posted: **2/24/05 5:36 PM

A/n: Sorry it took so long. But you know. Busy, and stuff. But I got some drabbles and stuff up, so that counts, right?

_Next Chapter:_ Trio's meeting. Shazaam – major clearer upper.

_ETP: _Uh...no class tomorrow, so if I can get my butt in gear (since I have nothing else to do) sometime this weekend? Saturday or Sunday maybe.

-

Hermione had completely forgotten about Harry and Ron's note to her until she was changing into her pajamas for the night. Stuffing the folded parchment into her bedtable drawer, she picked her bathrobe off its peg in the closet and shrugged into the warm terrycloth. She still hadn't regained her original build and weight so the flannel hems of her pajama pants dragged on the floor behind. But there wasn't anything she could do about that so she simply ignored it and stepped out into the common room.

It was late enough that nearly everyone had gone up to their rooms. Hermione sat down beside Ron and said a few quick words to him and Harry, who was leaning over the back of the couch between them, concerning the note they'd given her. Then the trio laughed as if a good joke had just been exchanged before going their separate ways. Harry went over to talk to Remus, while Ron and Hermione remained seated; he hurrying to come up with prophecies for Divination and she delving into a thick volume on temporal translocation.

She only needed to wait a few more moments longer until the common room had emptied, and Lily and Sirius came through the portrait hole to complete the group. Clearing her throat, Hermione tucked her book under her arm and stood up on the cushy couch cushion.

"I have an announcement to make," she declared, though looking hardly commanding in her overly large red flannel pajamas. "You're going to get your day of fun – so be ready by ten tomorrow morning."

Giving both Harry and Ron a kiss on the cheek goodnight, Hermione hopped off the couch and towards her room.

"Where are we going?" Sirius called after her.

Hermione laughed and winked at him, before twisting the doorknob and stepping into her Head Girl's rooms. "It's a surprise!"

-

"Everyone ready?"

The seven of them were all standing in the middle of Hermione's bedroom, cloaks fastened tightly around their necks and anxiously wondering just what the brunette had in mind. Each of them nodded in affirmation and Hermione swept her cloak to one side and procured a cracked earthen vase.

She held it straight out in her palm. "Everyone get a finger on it," she instructed, and by forming a tightly packed circle with one another they were able to do as she'd instructed.

"How did you get an unauthorized portkey?" Harry asked, brow furrowed. He'd seen enough of what his friend had once hidden to wonder what exactly she'd had to do to get this; and whether it was legal or not.

"Oh _it's_ authorized," she insisted simply as they waited for it to activate. Her maple syrup eyes met Harry's emerald ones with something akin to defiance, but he was unable to press her further before Ron interrupted.

"Who?" he asked.

"Dumbledore," she said, and it was irritating when they indiscreetly looked to Remus for confirmation.

"Dumbledore signed off on us ditching the school?" James exclaimed in awe.

"Cool!" Sirius echoed, and at exactly that moment the clock struck 10:03 and the group disappeared.

-

They reappeared in a very different place.

Hermione stepped away from the circled pack and when she looked back at them they noticed she was different too. Spreading her arms wide, she spun in a circle grinning widely. "Welcome to Old Beijing."

Paper lanterns hung all around them waiting until nightfall to be lit, and from the alley in which they'd appeared they could see nothing but a symphony of red buildings. It truly did seem as if they'd portkeyed back to ancient China.

Hermione's drab apparel had been replaced by color and texture. A green Chinese silk tunic that reached to her thighs went over the matching green silk trousers that capped off just below her knees. Thin black slippers laced up her bared calves and tied somewhere unseen beneath her pants. The tunic, however, was by far the most beautiful piece. The sleeves stopped just past her shoulders and were thinly lined with golden cord that also went around the hem. The gold went around her neck in a mock turtleneck and formed two loops for ornate, jeweled buttons that clasped the collar shut. The whole tunic was decorated with tiny, intrinsic Chinese symbols in gold and silver.

Her bushy hair had somehow been contained as well and twisted up into two buns on top of her head, wrapped in emerald ribbon. Heavy kohl lined her eyes giving an illusion of them being wider and deeper than they truly were and onyx pendant earrings dangled by her cheeks. She posed for them and the bangles on her wrist jangled.

"Old Beijing prides itself on its noble heritage and they continue to hold to the Old Ways, no matter how the world changes around them. The city is exactly the way it was hundreds of years ago. The more we fit in, the more they'll accept us as better than tourists," she explained, gesturing to her outfit. "Feel free to change your clothes, I was a bit rushed."

Having truly not noticed they'd changed as well, the marauders and her friends looked down at themselves in surprise.

The boys all sported the same gray half-trousers as Hermione's emerald ones, with thin white socks tucking in underneath and flat black shoes. They were separated by their shirts.

Sirius had one of pure white that was short-sleeved and crossed over his chest and tied at the side like a bathrobe. It was cut a few inches up on either side and hung down over his waist. His long hair had been pulled into a high ponytail on top of his head by a thick white ribbon without any tails.

Ron had no sleeves to his yellow tunic, but it seemed to compensate for the fact by hanging low over his upper legs, cut on both sides up to his hips for unhindered mobility. A red sash tied around his waist and the tassels on each end were gold.

James wore white with long sleeves that went over his hands and a neckline that hung over his shoulders. The cloth crossed twice over his chest and looped through a wooden circle in the back in some precise way that kept the entire thing fastened. Underneath the heavier over shirt he wore a silk tunic that came sleevelessly up to his throat and stuck out a few inches longer around the bottom than the white.

Harry standing beside him wore a shirt of black that's inelastic sleeves reached his elbows. It crossed in the front as Sirius' had done, but tucked into the waistband of his trousers with a billow of extra silk cloth hanging over the edge that it obscured the transition and had a green cord for a belt. Beneath his unruly bangs a green bandana that matched both his eyes and Hermione's tunic covered his scar and tied in a knot behind his head.

Lily was a vision in red as she spun around in her full length kimono. It cut off around the shoulders and neck as Hermione's had done, but the red silk was trimmed in black rather than gold and it reached far past the taller girl's waist and all the way down to her ankles, embroidered with beautiful flowers. Golden gauntlets incased her lower arm as well as a short length of leg above her ankles and she wore on her feet low red heels. Her lips had been painted ruby and her pretty hair was twisted into an elegant bun atop her head and fastened with a jeweled lily comb and black chopsticks.

Remus wore white silk that came down tightly just past his elbows and over that he wore a tunic of light brown. The sleeves hung loosely short and the neckline crossed lower than the others showing the white again. The edges of the crossing material were outline in thick, darker brown and the knot they tied in hung long tails down his side.

"I feel all dressed up," Lily admitted. A shyish smile played on her painted lips as she played with the twin tails of her dress, whose slits bared the skin of her legs all the way up to mid-thigh.

James whispered something in her ear to which she flushed and giggled madly, and made Sirius roll his eyes. "Where are we off to first, pigeon?" He was tugging thoughtfully at the end of his ponytail, the style which, in all honesty, Hermione found rather cute.

"Why don't you guys take a look around, and then we'll find someplace for lunch?" She suggested, and the troop started on their way.

Stepping out into the bright sunlight of the square, the Chinese weather proved itself to be far warmer than the climate they'd left behind in Scotland. Hermione led the way, but was quickly over-passed by the Marauders as they ran from shop to shop; peering wide eyed at all the wonders like children in a candy store. She amused herself by talking lightly with Harry and Ron about this and that, none of them so enraptured as the others having been in the city already once before. Then, Harry and Ron stopped to talk to a young girl whose mother was in the Chinese Outpost of the Order, and Hermione found herself walking alone through the gilded stone square.

Stopping beside the fountain, she was allowed only a moment of peace to bask her face in the warm sunlight before she was converged upon on all sides.

"Isn't the fountain lovely?" Lily gushed from over her shoulder.

"Come look at this street performer – I swear he's putting a stick on fire down his throat!" Sirius insisted, tugging at her arm.

"You can flip like that, can't you Hermione?" James said, grabbing her other arm and gesture in the direction of an acrobatic show going on down the street.

"Hermione! You remember Mei Ling, don't you?" Harry laughed, setting the beaming child at her feet, who then promptly latched onto one of her legs.

"We have all day you guys!" She insisted laughing, but allowed herself to be dragged off all the same.

-

Lunch came and went at a small out of the way restaurant in the wizarding section of Old Beijing, where it seemed Hermione knew the owner personally. The food was good, everyone having chosen the buffet to be able to try as much as they could. It was when the boys were all slouched in their seats patting their stomachs and Lily was hiding an unladylike burp in her napkin that a sudden flashing caught their eyes.

"Hermione..." Remus started. "Your chest is..._glowing_."

Hermione looked at him in surprise before she became suddenly serious and looked down at the small lime green circle that was flashing between her breasts. She touched the light with the tips of her fingers and like rising out of molasses a golden chain and its attached golden coin pulled up and through the silk of her tunic. The coin looked ancient and it had odd symbols scratched into the surface, but it was the diamond shaped emerald in the middle that was emitting the earlier noticed glow.

She touched it again and the glow vanished, but her head was turned slightly to the side as if listening to something. The others all looked around curiously, but there was no sound other than the soft chattering of the restaurant's other patrons.

"She's ready to see me," Hermione murmured. The pendant flickered and disappeared again.

"Wha?"

Hermione pushed back her chair and stood up, smiling all the while but it was forced for the sake of looking apologetic. "Sorry to have fun and run, but I've got a meeting to attend to."

"You booked Order business!" Harry exclaimed, disbelieving, his chair falling back forward onto all four legs.

"'Waste not want not', Harry," she chimed, kicking her chair back underneath the table. "I haven't got the time to spare."

"I should've known that's why you picked Beijing," he growled and looked away. He seemed genuinely upset with her, and the thought made Hermione's casualness falter.

"That's how you got the portkey," James concluded, snapping his fingers. She nodded. "Damn...I thought Dumbledore was cool," He grumbled, dropping his pouting face on his fists.

"Lily," Hermione turned to face the redhead. "I'm gonna need you to come with me, is that okay?"

She glanced uncertainly at James, who grinned, then back up at Hermione. "Of course," she managed, trying to sound as casual as the brunette without knowing what the Merlin was going on.

"Hermione...can I talk to you first?" Ron asked, looking serious. A quick peek at Harry found him to be staring solidly at her.

Rolling her eyes she sighed her okay and pardoned herself from Lily, allowing her childhood friend to pull her a few tables down from the group. Anticipating the lecture that was coming, Hermione promptly folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. Ron looked at her blankly for a moment before he shrugged. "I honestly don't know why we're over here."

Hermione had to bite down on her lip to keep from bursting out laughing.

"Harry just kept knocking me in the ribs, and you know how bony his elbows are," he commented offhandedly.

Hermione, who'd been positioned so that she was facing back towards the table and Harry, had to muffle her snort of laughter lest their lack of a serious talk be discovered. Frowning at her goofily grinning friend was almost impossible, but she somehow managed and changed her position so that she was standing beside him, her back to their table.

"You're an idiot you know that," she giggled.

Ron, hands stuffed into his pockets, gave her a discreet shoulder bump. "He's just worried about you, ya know."

She scuffed at the floor with her slippers, and signed in acceptance. "I know. I know I still have a lot of explaining to do, and I'm sorry about that."

"We gonna have that meeting tonight?"

Hermione was absently twisting one of the curls that had fallen loose around her finger. "Of course – you bringing the popcorn?"

Ron chuckled. "Only if you bring those fuzzy slippers of yours."

A snort. "You wear those more than I do."

"They're _comfy_," he insisted.

Not even caring what Harry would say once he realized his best mates had not been having grave speaks with one another, Hermione went up on her tiptoes and kissed Ron on his freckled cheek. "Thanks Ron," she murmured. "I needed a laugh."

The lanky boy jutted out his chest proudly then was promptly deflated by a smack from Hermione. "We'll meet up with you in an hour or so." She waved Lily over, and the pretty redhead waved goodbye to her boyfriend before walking over.

"Us boys'll be fine on our own," he told her, starting towards the table.

"Hey Ron!" Hermione called; deciding last minute. He spun around to face her, continuing his walk backwards. "This is _my _business," she told him. "Not the Order's."

He saluted her with a grin. "An hour?"

"Have fun!" Both she and Lily waved goodbye before stepping back out into the bright sunlight.

"So what secret mission are we running off on now?" Lily asked jovially, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as she looked off up into the sky.

Hermione chuckled. "I think you'll like it."

Hermione took a deep breath before starting off down the street. She truly did need Lily to come with her, but this was also her chance to do what she'd told James she'd wanted to do – become friends with Lily. And she couldn't lie to herself; the thought seemed a rather daunting task. There was something about the other girl that amazed and intimidated her at the same time. Maybe it was the earthy beauty she possessed but wasn't even aware of, or maybe it was that Hermione knew she was powerful enough to keep her infant son alive against an unblockable curse.

It startled her then, when she felt another arm link with hers. Hermione must have looked as if she'd swallowed a flobberworm the way she was gaping at the slightly taller girl. Lily just smiled at her, closed eyes crinkling around the edges.

"Thanks for bringing us all here," she said sincerely. "It couldn't have been easy for you to get the seven of us out like this."

"I-It was nothing," Hermione insisted, waving her hand in front of her face. "Besides we all deserved a break."

Lily nodded, thin orange tendrils caressing her cheeks. They walked a few more blocks in pleasant silence before Lily turned to Hermione and asked "May I say something?"

Hermione all but laughed at her prudence. "Of course!"

"Harry didn't seem to think you were taking that much of a break..." Pearly white teeth gnawed anxiously on painted crimson lips, fearing she'd overstepped her bounds.

Hermione shrugged. "He'll get over it."

"Probably."

"Lily stop walking."

Perplexed, the redhead did as she was asked. Reaching out she placed a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder and ducked her head to look into her shaded eyes. "What is it?"

Hermione swallowed forcefully. "What you have to know is...Harry's been doing this too long. He just can't do it anymore – that's why _I_ have to." She reached up and clasped her hand over Lily's wrist. "I've watched too many of the people that I care about beaten down and nearly killed or worse. I swore a long time ago, that no matter how I felt or who stood in my way I was going to do _whatever_ it took to keep them safe."

Hermione sighed, but her strong gaze was unwavering. "I can't ask you to understand that."

Then Lily squeezed her shoulder and those beautiful red lips curved into a warm smile. Like a switch had been turned by that simple expression a familiar emotion clicked on in Hermione's brain. Without a word being said, Hermione _felt_ the other girl's gratitude – thanking her for telling her what she had.

Hermione had only felt Remus' power before and this was completely different than that. Lily wasn't trying to force her own emotions on top of her, but merely blowing them in her direction like flower petals caught in the wind. It was a soft caress, a whiff of lavender, a subtle taste of chocolate.

"You look _tired_," Lily said in a voice filled with kindness. Her brilliant green eyes, so like her son's, were awash with compassion, not sympathy. She may not have understood Hermione, but she understood what it was she was fighting for.

Relief so strong washed over her and Hermione thought she might have cried if she weren't standing in the middle of a street in Old Beijing. Sniffing quickly, she said, "You know what they say – 'there's no rest for the wicked'."

Lily laughed and Hermione gestured at a building down the way. "We're almost there; let's go."

Hermione led the way through a small back street and up to a tall bamboo constructed door. There was no latch or handle that Lily could see that would open this large door, but Hermione was one step ahead of her. With a press of her fingers to her chest, the medallion resurfaced and the emerald shot out a beam of light onto the middle of the door. Like powder blown over an infrared laser in those muggle movies, in the steady light of the emerald a shimmering doorknob appeared.

The two girls grinned at each other and Hermione nodded for Lily to go ahead and open the door. With a sure hand, Lily placed her palm over the near invisible handle, pale fingers curling around the knob and twisting it to the side. The door swung open and Hermione's necklace disappeared again.

"She likes her privacy whenever she vacations here," Hermione said, guiding the surprisingly light door open further so they could step inside.

They were stepping into a wide open square flooded with sunlight that seemed brighter than the one they'd just stepped out of. Smooth red pillars held up the stone awning encompassing the bright courtyard and provided a slender strip of cool shadow before leading out into the warm day. Sakura trees and bonsais had grown straight up through the cracked flagstones and a scattering of pink blossoms littered the path they walked to the trickling fountain that served as the courtyard's centerpiece.

Seated along it was a middle-aged woman, her hair swept back and secured with a tortoise-shell comb. Her Asian features were awash with white sunlight as the woman looked up from the folder spread open before her and looked towards the sound of their soft slippered footsteps.

"Hermione." Her English was fluent.

"Vera," Hermione smiled in return, walking up to the fountain. "This is the friend I told you about. Lily Evans, this is Vera Wang."

"Are you serious?" Lily exclaimed, reaching out to shake the woman's hand. She may have only been in the future for two months, but living in a dorm with a bunch of other girls she knew exactly who Vera Wang was.

Both Hermione and Vera laughed. "She's going to help us with a bit of a job," Hermione explained. She sounded as if she knew the designer well.

"I didn't know you were a witch," Lily remarked, jade eyes wide; impressed.

The woman's reply was a smile and a soft voice. "My clients didn't lie when they said my designs were _magical_."

Hiking up her tunic a bit, Hermione settled on the stone bench of the fountain and curled her legs up underneath her. "Shall we get started then?"

Vera nodded and tapped the papers of her folder with her index finger. "I have a list of all the witches who've ordered gowns for Samhain right here. Do you have yours?"

"Yes." Reaching up under the sleeve of her green tunic, Hermione retrieved a tightly folded piece of parchment. She unfolded it and handed it to Vera, all the while Lily peering interestedly over her shoulder from her own seat on the fountain.

Vera said her incantation in her native tongue then zigzagged the end of her wand down Hermione's scrap of parchment. The names inked upon it lifted up into the air, as flat and one-dimensional as they had been on paper, and she guided them with her wand down onto her own stack of parchments. The names scattered to find their matches and each pair found emitted a red glow. When the spell was finished, there was not a single name that returned to Hermione's parchment; matchless.

"Anyone who's anyone is wearing your designs for Samhain," Hermione praised. "That works out perfectly."

"Perfectly for what?" Lily asked curiously, and Hermione remembered that she hadn't explained what they were doing there.

Saying a few quick words to Vera, who began putting the files back together, Hermione turned around to face Lily, sitting with one slender leg pulled up to her chest.

"Samhain is a night of big activity for Voldemort's forces, but they're doing a very good job of keeping the Order's spies from finding out about them. Vera and I think we may have come up with a plan to change that." Hermione smiled briefly at the designer as she passed by, then went back to Lily. "Every female Death Eater and every Death Eater's wife the Order knows about was on that list I gave her. Each one has ordered a dress by Vera Wang."

"You've put tracking spells on them haven't you!" Lily exclaimed in sudden understanding.

Hermione nodded. "Very complex ones at that. I'm going to have to lace my enchantments through Vera's to solidify them."

"And the Order doesn't know about this?"

She shook her head. "No." Sensing another question coming, Hermione moved to explain the situation further. "This plan is very dangerous, Lily. If any of them discover that their dress has been tampered with they could trace back the magic signatures to Vera and myself. I want to make sure this works first before I tell the Order."

Lily's lips quirked oddly and her pupils dilated accordingly to adjust to the bright sunlight as she looked upwards. "Well, you can bet Harry and Ron certainly wouldn't approve." Her tone wasn't reprimanding – she was merely stating a fact.

Hermione smiled, but it looked as if it pained her to do so. "Yes, I'm sure you're right." She agreed, but made no indication that Lily was now "sworn to secrecy" or that the world would end if she told anyone else of the secret plane. What she said was: "I trust your judgment on this, Lily."

Patting her lap, Hermione let out a gush of air and stood up. Beaming brightly, she offered her hand to Lily and pulled the redhead up off the fountain bench. "Let's get you to the fitting rooms, so Vera can start taking your measurements while I work on the dresses."

Lily stumbled in the wake of Hermione's exuberant pace, but her longer legs quickly closed the distance. "Fitting rooms?" she repeated as her companion pushed open another light bamboo door.

Hermione looked up at her in mild surprise. "Oh, didn't I tell you? Vera's doing our dresses for the ball."

-

An hour later, the two girls were saying their goodbyes to Vera and stepping back onto the street, where Lily was surprised to find dusk beginning to settle on the ancient town.

"I didn't realize so much time had passed," she said conversationally.

"You wouldn't," Hermione replied. "Vera's ceiling is enchanted. She likes the sun."

"Thank you for taking me with you. I know you do not give out your trust easily..."

The brunette's face colored a bit, for it sounded all the more embarrassing coming from Lily, who trusted _everyone_. "We've grown up in two different worlds," she shrugged.

"Perhaps," she replied cryptically. "But your friends are not so protective of their trust as you."

Hermione shook her head, though not in denial of anything. "For me it's nothing personal, and Ron trusts you because Harry does."

There was a pause in the conversation, though Lily's lips parted as if she were near to speaking. Then, very slowly, she turned her face to meet Hermione's and when she spoke it was with an _odd_ sound to it.

"And why does _Harry_ trust us?"

Buzzers and alarms and red flashing lights went off in Hermione's brain as the deliberately pronounced words reached her ears. Their eyes were locked, and Hermione gradually stopped walking. Staring at each other, Hermione internally praised the redhead for her intelligence but condemned her tact.

Then, looking up at her through her lashes with hard eyes, Hermione said, quite clearly. "I think you already know, Lily."

A smile spread across her fading red lips and Lily inclined her head to Hermione as if to say 'touché'. Hermione let a ghostly smile of her own appear before changing the subject.

"Do you think you could find James?" she asked.

"I could try," she offered, and like being dunked in molasses Hermione felt Lily's power wash over her.

Hermione waited patiently for Lily as she tested the bounds of her power. She'd suggested James, because he was the one Lily was most connected to emotionally. Hoping that it would work so they wouldn't have to go apparating all over the place looking for them, Hermione had no problems settling in for a long wait.

Ten minutes later, Lily was blinking back the focus to her eyes and pointing down the street. "That way."

"We should hurry if we want to make it back for dinner," Hermione suggested, and in agreement the two girls took off at a run with Lily guiding the way.

When Hermione caught sight of the boys at the far end of the bazaar she quickened her pace so that she was running alongside Lily, no longer needing her to lead. They ran neck and neck throwing up their hands as they dodged street vendors to wave at the boys. That was why Hermione was completely taken aback when, while grinning widely and waving at James, Lily said to her:

"I trust you, Hermione...because we're not as different as you think."

Hermione stopped dead in tracks, startled and amazed, as Lily continued on to jump into James' arms. He spun her around laughing and kissed her on the tip of her nose. Hermione had heard of decision-altering moments, but never had she witnessed one quite like this. Standing in the middle of China, thousands of miles from home, with Harry still too upset to give her a hug of her own, she stared at a tiny puppet show performing just down the street.

She'd already calculated it in her mind.

"Hermione!" Remus was calling to her, breaking her attention. "Let's get back before these Neanderthals you brought with us start hunting for food."

Shaking her head, Hermione nodded and, with a narrowing of her eyes, re-enlarged the earthen pot that had served as their portkey to Old Beijing. She'd learned a fair few tricks with her new power; though the tracking enchantments had took her a precious few days to master. "Everyone get a hold on it because I'm not coming back for you if you don't," she said in blasé manner.

Knowing full-well she'd do just that, everyone crammed around in their bright silks and got at least a finger on the jar.

Hermione had gotten the portkey with a set departure time, but telling Dumbledore she was uncertain as to the time of her return, he'd encoded the reversal so that it wouldn't activate until a predetermined word activated it. And so, after a check to make sure that everyone was going to get taken with it, she said, quite clearly:

"Cinnamon."

-

Fifteen minutes later, as Lily brushed past her on the group's way to dinner, Hermione, looking as though she was smiling at Remus' joke, whispered softly in the redhead's ear.

"Nine o'clock. Under the girls' stairs."


	28. XXVII Talks

**Completed: **3/2/05 10:00 PM

**Posted: **3/2/05 10:07 PM

* * *

"Hermione..."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's tone and sprawled out on the armchair beside her bookcase, one leg over the arm and an arm draped over the back. "Harry," she replied in a mockery of his tone. Honestly, he was being _so_ childish.

Ron closed the door behind the two of them as they entered Hermione's room, and, in a fashion typically Ron, ignored the both of them. He returned from routing around in her closet to find them both glaring at each other. Shuffling over to the bed in Hermione's pink furry slippers, he tossed a few pieces of popcorn up into the air and caught them in his mouth.

"Maybe we should sort this bit out first?" He suggested, and plopped down on the bed.

"Depends..." Hermione commented. "Think anything will make it through that hard head of his?"

"You're hiding things again, Hermione," Harry sighed. He looked more frustrated than angry as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Hello, Kettle calling Pot," she muttered sarcastically. "It's not as if you haven't done the same."

"Hey!" He was indignant. "That was to protect you and Ron."

Hermione fixed him with a solid, unblinking look.

Throwing up his hands, Harry growled out an aggravated sound. "What could you possibly have to hide that would hurt us?"

Hermione waved at Ron, and he obligingly chucked the bag of popcorn to her. She caught it with minimal spillage of fluffy, white kernels and dug out a handful of the salty foodstuff. Just before feeding it to herself, she responded with: "Well, for that reason, you won't ever know, now will you?"

Ron snorted, but quickly stopped at the sharp look from Harry. "You're being ridiculous," the dark haired boy insisted.

"Listen, Harry," she started around a mouthful of popcorn. "It's nothing that would aid you by knowing it, so let's just drop it. So, why did you guys call this meeting?" Her redirection of the conversation was given in a no-nonsense tone.

Ron cleared his throat, and he became unusually solemn. "Sirius was asking questions earlier. They're going to find out, Hermione."

She paused, and then slowly lowered the bag of steaming popcorn to her lap, her jaw deliberately working to finish her last mouthful of food. Wiping at her mouth with the side of her hand, she worked to clear the last of the persistent shells stuck to her teeth before speaking.

"We haven't done anything to conceal their futures, Ron," she said with purposeful slowness that was pointed in its deliberation. "They're smart – I harbored no doubts they'd figure it out eventually."

Ron looked shocked, but Harry was the one who shook his head. "Won't that disrupt the timeline?"

"We have to do something," Ron added, rather hysterically. "Throw them off the scent!"

"They're not dogs!" Harry shouted back.

"You're the one that ran your mouth off when they first got here," he reminded him, in a voice that was much louder than necessary for conveying his words the short distance.

"THERE'S NO PROBLEM!" Hermione shouted, interrupting the fight. "Now shut up!"

The room fell into silence; the bag of popcorn overturned all over the floor in Hermione's hasty sitting up, and Ron's hands in his hair as he watched Harry's frozen pacing stop mid-stride in the middle of Hermione's bedroom. Running her own hand through the top layers of her hair, she ground her palm frustrated into her forehead with her fingers catching in her tangled curls.

"Nothing..." She swallowed, and started again. "Nothing they discover here will make any difference."

"Hermione..." Harry's brow furrowed and he took a step towards her. "Is there something you know, that we don't?"

Her eyes flashed. Dangerously. "I know more than you ever will."

Harry's face deepened with angry lines, but before any words could escape his opening mouth, Ron cut them both off. "We're not starting this again, you two. Sort your shit out later."

Quite honestly, it was freaking him out to see _Harry_ and _Hermione_ in a quarrel that had lasted this long. Maybe Harry had reached the end of his patience with Hermione's secretiveness, but whatever it was it hadn't ever happened before. And it was screwing with the only sure thing in his life.

"Hermione," he addressed her. "What do you mean 'it won't make any difference'...I'm pretty sure the things they could find out wouldn't be so non-timeline-changeable."

Hermione had slid off the chair and was on her knees picking up the scattered kernels. She cleared her throat and tucked her hair back from hanging in her face and behind her ear. Settling back on her heels she gestured to her bureau.

"In my knicker drawer...there's a book."

The two boys exchanged looks, but the sole female was staring despondently at her bed's pleated bed skirt like all of life's answers were about to peek out from between the folds. Harry, who was already on his feet, was the one who crossed past her and pulled open the top drawer of the aforementioned bureau – how he knew which one was her knicker drawer, Ron wasn't about to ask.

"Don't touch anything," she threatened, but it was hollow sounding, and from a bed of lacy bras and cotton briefs Harry quickly retrieved the book and closed the drawer.

The book was thick, the kind Hermione liked, and it was a bit musty and smelled like a mix of the library and springtime fresh. It looked a bit familiar, but he was forever losing his friend's nose into a book and the covers tended to blur together. He trailed a finger along the pages, and looked up at Hermione.

"It's marked," she told him, sitting back against the front of her arm chair; one leg stretched out on the carpet and the other bent up so she could drape her arm over her knee. It was a good thing she'd changed into her pajamas.

Meanwhile, Harry was flipping pages until he found the two that were separated by a bookmark. And not just some scrap of paper or a random receipt, but a true bookmark. It was paper thin red leather, with the initials H.J.G. embossed in gold at the bottom. At the top, a corded yellow tassel looped through a hole. He looked up in surprise, but Hermione wasn't looking at him; the door was garnishing all her attention.

It was the bookmark he'd given her for her birthday last year. Moving it aside, his eyes scanned down the old, inked words. His face furrowed again. "Hermione, this is…"

"Go ahead, read it."

Ron was looking at her in concern, for it wasn't often that such a defeated tone as this crept into the brunette's voice. Clearing his throat, Harry began to read as she instructed, moving with book in hand back to the bed.

"_Time Travelers that journey to the past, when they return to their present and original time, remember all those they meet in the past as well as every experience. The person or person who had knowledge of the Time Traveler retain their memories as well until such time as they are reunited with the Traveler, or, in the cases of great time differential, until death."_

"I remember those words..." Ron murmured.

Hermione didn't say anything to that, so Harry took that as a sign to keep reading.

"_Witches and wizards who travel to the future are surrounded by much different circumstances. When such Time Travelers return to the past, they—" _and just as Hermione had, all those nights ago...Harry stopped reading.

"What's it say mate?"

Harry swallowed slowly and sunk into the chair in front of Hermione's vanity. _"When such Time Travelers return to the past, they lose all memories of their experiences for the future. Unlike Travelers to the past their memories have not yet occurred, and so they have no recollection of their time spent in the future until that time has come to pass."_

Hermione's head was back, her chestnut curls spilled out across the armchair cushions. "Now you know," she said.

"But Hermione...they're all dead now," Ron said quietly.

The book hit the floor with a dull **whump!** and Hermione's leather bookmark stuck disparagingly out from beneath bent pages. "My mum...and dad..." Harry's throat stuck. "They're not going to remember me..."

Hermione turned to look at him, and though her tone was apathetic her face softened. "No..."

And just like that, all ill will between them melted away.

"This was...going to be my chance..." His voice cracked and he could no longer speak.

Hermione had moved to kneel in front of him, though he hadn't seen her approach, and in a gesture he hadn't seen in too long, she reached up and carefully brushed his bangs back from his eyes. "Harry...your parents sacrificed their lives knowing what kind of person you'd turn out to be," she told him earnestly. "Sirius knew too."

Harry nodded brusquely and lowered his head to compose himself. Face emotionless, Hermione stood and left his side, walking back to her bed. "What are we going to do?" he asked.

"I'm going to send them back." Her tone was even. "There's no telling what would happen to their past selves if they got hurt here, or worse."

"How?" Harry lifted his head from his hands and folded them together.

Hermione shrugged and lifted herself back up onto the high mattress. "I worked out a reversal of the original ritual back in...Azkaban." She quickly cleared her throat. "It's still on the walls."

"How soon?" Ron asked. The atmosphere of the room had since taken a dramatic plunge, and not even the gangly redhead could summon up any cheer.

"Depends. About a week." She looked over at him. "I wish I could, but I can't get them out of here before Samhain."

"Are we sure we should even be trying to get them back at all?" Harry asked, masking his growing anger by taking off his round glasses to polish the lenses on his shirt tails.

"They don't belong here, Harry," Hermione said thinly. "They can't keep living their lives in two different times."

"That's not what I meant!" Harry was on his feet now. "You could get sent back Hermione – is that what you want!"

"No one _wants_ to go back," she yelled, outrage lining her face, "but I have to fix what I've done!"

"The spell brought them here to help defeat Voldemort, so why don't we use them?" No matter how angry he made his tone, he was pleading with her plain and simple; begging her not to leave them again.

"They're unsuited for war, Harry," she scowled. "You saw them – they think this is a _joke_."

"And you think you're the only one who as a say in all of this," he shot back. His anger deflated then and he picked Hermione's hands up in both of his. Pulling them to his chest, he looked her beseechingly in the eyes. "Losing you...Ron and I can't do it again, Hermione. _Please_."

Hermione's face was as blank as a slate, but she let him hold her hands as though it was some small token she was willing to be bestow for the moment. "What if the next time Voldemort attacks, he gets to Lily?" She had to pause a moment to regain the deadened sound to her voice. "You might never be born, Harry. What do Ron and _I_ do then...?"

In the silence that followed, it was Ron who finally broke it. "When did our lives become so painful...?"

Hermione sighed and rested her head against one of the canopy posts, Harry still holding to one of her small hands as Ron's murmurs went on.

"When did we stop being kids? When did everyday life turn into a struggle just to survive to the next bitter day?"

Harry stared fixatedly on the carvings in the bed's headboard, and Hermione's eyes had returned to the door. Ron looked into the hearth as if there were flames crackling there that neither Harry nor Hermione could see.

"When did I turn to ice?" Hermione whispered, and both boys fought not to look at her, fearing what they would find.

Harry spoke next. "When did being the hero stop being enough?"

Digging the knuckles of a fist roughly into his cheek, Ron propped up his head and blinked back the glaze that had settled over his eyes. "When did Voldemort start winning?" he asked softly; and to that, no one had an answer.

They sat in silence for a very long time; longer than they ever had before. They did not speak, because none of them could find the words to bring back a hint of joy to the deadened atmosphere choking the room. And so, they refrained from speaking at all, preferring to keep the silence the way it was without risking further despair to work its way into their thoughts.

But then...the trio could always count on Ron.

"What are you gonna do about your boyfriends?" He asked in a voice that was a bit too soft to be joking; but he was doing his best.

Hermione smiled and gave a short chuckle, turning to look back at the two of them sitting on her bed. "Get them out of my bedroom and up to bed?"

"Aww…that's sweet of you to say." Harry reached out and tweaked her toes, knowing she was ticklish there and she responded in turn by kicking him in the shins. "But I think best friend Ron was meaning my godfather and our teacher."

"They're _not_ my boyfriends," she said, snidely turning up her nose.

"Not _yet_," Ron corrected with a grin. "Don't you think they're gonna be a little peeved about you sending them back?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "How are you going to tell them?

Hermione bit out a smile and forced her gaze not to wander. "I don't think that'll be an issue."

"I'm surprised you haven't even tried with either of them..." Ron confessed, and Hermione was proudly able to hold back her blush.

"That's because they don't belong here – it wouldn't have worked."

"You should try saying that to 'em," Harry laughed and Ron snickered.

"Could you imagine their faces?" The redhead chortled. Hermione smiled faintly.

"You know, I bet ten galleons my mum'll be the first one to figure it out," Harry boasted confidently, jabbing a thumb into his chest.

"No way!" Ron countered, leaning forward. "Definitely Sirius. If he keeps pushing one of us is gonna let something slip."

"You mean _you'll_ let something slip," Harry laughed loudly. Ron gave an indignant sound and chucked one of Hermione's good bed pillows at him.

The owner of said pillow closed her eyes and opened them just as slowly, taking the time to gather herself together. Swallowing, she bit the bullet and her eyes were on the door as she said, "Twenty knuts says they're listening right now."

Lily and the Marauders were knocked solidly back against the stairwell and sat up nursing their bruised cheeks where the door had been shoved stoutly into them. The knob above them twisted and the door swung inwards, but when they looked up the trio was still sitting on Hermione's bed.

Ron's mouth was as wide as his eyes and Harry looked like he was about to be sick. Lily's face was blank, but James wouldn't even meet their eyes. Sirius looked angry and Remus betrayed. Hermione sat in the middle of it all; hands neatly folded in her lap.

Detaching herself from the situation, Hermione left behind her investment in the outcome of this play's scene and simply waited for someone to say something..._anything._ When no one did – seemingly quite content to continue their staring contest – she slipped off the edge of her bed and padded across the carpet to the tune of six sets of eyes. Reaching up as she moved, she tugged out the binding that held her hair in its ponytail and the wild curls spilled down around her shoulders. Seating herself in front of her lighted vanity, she stared at her tired face before picking up her brush and beginning to run it through her hair as if there were no else around.

"I can't believe you kept this from us!" Sirius yelled into the silence. Hermione's unaltered rhythm continued as she worked the mahogany brush around her head. "We had to _overhear_ it!"

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and selected a lock from the bottom layer that had seen particular wear and knottedness. "I asked Lily to come tonight, Sirius," Hermione said quite simply.

"You did _what_!" Ron shouted.

"You knew they were there...all this time?" Harry's voice was strained, though Hermione's attention was focused on working the tangles from her curls.

"Yes."

She caught sight of a dark head raising and clouded brown eyes in the curved arc of her mirror. "I thought we were friends, Hermione..." James said, dolefully.

Her hand, brush held loosely in its fingers, fell back onto the make-up table and she looked at him through the reflective glass. "We _are_."

He shook his head, and an unfamiliar dryness threatened to stop her words. "No...friends don't keep secrets from each other."

Hermione closed her eyes. They were going back in a week, she had to remind herself – even whisper it under her breath for the words to have any effect on her. Like a favorite cloak, she draped her apathy around herself, wrapping the mask of detachedness around her with so tight a fastening, neither air nor light could slip through the cracks. And when she'd sealed herself off – burrowed so far into unfeeling – she felt _cold_.

When she opened her eyes again, the honey orbs that reflected back at her looked dead. "How long did it take for Remus to confide in you his lycanthropy?" She asked evenly; thoughtless to the pained affect her question had on the quartet sitting in her doorway.

"At least _he_ told us!" Sirius shot back angrily.

"As have I," she replied, in that same cool tone without inflection. Her fingers worked deftly to wind her thick mane into a single, corded braid.

"That's not the same, Hermione," James insisted quietly.

"Isn't it?"

"You betrayed me—us..." Remus whispered, speaking for the first time.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she said as she pinned up her braid, but her voice was void of any sort of apologetic tone; in fact, she sounded anything but. "You can feel as angry at me as you like, but in a week...it won't matter."

"You _can't_ be serious about that, Hermione," said James.

She nodded, and if it wasn't her affirmation that cut them, it was the words that followed it. "You're useless to me."

Their pained and disbelieving faces hardly so much as scratched the surface of Hermione's apathy. She simply no longer cared...

"The only reason any of you know all of this, is because of Harry. I told Lily to come outside my rooms, because I wanted to Harry to know..." Hermione's eyes burned, and her mind couldn't seem to identify the wetness that was building up in them – there was no emotion connected to it, it was just there – pricking at the corners of her eyes. "...to know...that for one brief moment his parents knew what a wonderful person he had turned out to be; that they loved and believed in him..._that they were proud of him._"

Not a drop rolled down her face, but she had to sniff to clear her throat to speak. "That's all."

Harry had turned away from the Marauders, resolutely staring at the open door to Hermione's closet as she'd spoken. She looked over at him as his eyes moved to hers. _Tears_...like a thought that had been caught on the tip of her tongue, she remembered them. Harry hadn't been able to hold back _his _tears, but they were ones only she and Ron could see. He smiled then, and she knew her face must look a terrifying sight, all cold and empty, and he mouthed two words.

Thank you.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I've actually been looking forward to a bath all day, so if you'll excuse me..."

It was as if her mannerly words were spoken merely as a formality for none yet held the customary tones or sentiments behind them. It looked as though she wouldn't have listened if they _hadn't_ "excused her" as even while she was saying the words she was giving them her back and walking to the door that separated her bedroom from the Heads' common room. A shrug of her shoulders and her robe slipped down her arms and pooled in a terrycloth pile behind her as she walked.

It was probably shock that struck the room mute until she'd opened the door, but the jumble of shouted words hardly penetrated her suddenly developed selective hearing and the door was pushed softly shut – Hermione on the other side.

"FUCK!"

Remus jumped as Sirius' fist dented the plaster along the frame of the door. With a canine snarl, the dark-haired wizard pushed himself onto his feet and was running through the Gryffindor common room before Lily, speaking for the first time since the interchange, could reach him.

"Sirius! _Don't_!"

* * *

Hermione had almost reached the sanctuary of the Prefects' bath, before the swift Sirius caught up and was upon her. He spun her around with one of his substantially larger hands clamping tight around her wrist. The cold stone wall made close acquaintances with Hermione's back as it seemed she wasn't going to be bathing in the near future, judging by the bruising grip on her forearm.

"Sirius...you're hurting me." She told him dully. The pale white of her arm looked all the more brittle and thin with his fingers curled around it and the baggy flannel sleeve of her pajamas scrunched down around her elbow. She, for one, did not like looking at it and being reminded of how such things had come to pass.

"No, I'm not." His voice was dangerously low in its surety. "No more lies."

Hermione stopped her pathetic excuse for struggles and gazed heavy-lashéd at him, honoring his request for an end to her falsehoods. It seemed her dream of a bath was going to go unrealized this night.

"You lied to me about _everything_," he hissed.

"Not everything," she said evenly. "And not even on this particular matter. I merely held my tongue. If Dumbledore did not see fit to tell you then it wasn't my place—"

"Bullshit! Don't you start acting the model student now! You run more of this school than he does!"

Hermione forced her gaze as stony as it would go, but his hot angry breath on her cheeks was distracting and flustering. "If you had come to me and asked me 'Do I die in this time?' I would have told you the truth."

"Well _sorry_ if that particular question never crossed my mind!" He raged. He couldn't believe she had to the gall to say something like that to his face.

Hermione reached up and with slow, but unflinching, strength pried his fingers off her wrist. There were bright red marks where the pads of his fingers had squeezed too hard. "I would have told you the truth," she repeated, evenly.

His glare was hard and fierce, but Hermione did not falter. Instead, when it became too difficult to maintain her apathy she fixed her gaze on a fissure in the wall opposite the one against her back. Her hand still held Sirius' wrist, but the other was pressed palm against the stone, her entire arm flush with the wall.

At the moment, life pretty much sucked. If she had thought for a _second_ she'd be calling for anyone aside from the Founders with that ritual she never would have done it. Respectable witches and wizards such as them would not have thrown hissy fits over being sent back to their time, nor have caused her so much inner strife. For some reason, Hermione couldn't imagine she would have developed any personal feelings for, say, Salazaar Slytherin.

Sirius' heavy sigh startled her enough to realize that she'd completely spaced off in her inner-discussion, and she reluctantly moved her gaze back to Sirius' face, mentally berating herself for not being able to remain detached as she used to. She never got the chance to steel herself over, because Sirius was leaning over her and for the most panicky of all seconds Hermione thought he was surely going to try and kiss her.

Head twitching spasmodically, in which she felt like a demented bobblehead doll, Hermione fought between facing him down and turning her head to put her lips out of his reach. She wasn't aware she'd been holding her breath until Sirius's forehead found the cool stone beside her own head and the pent up carbon dioxide slipped passed her lips in a hiss.

His hand had gone limp in her grasp, thumb dragging its edge along the back of her palm, and his long hair was clinging to her neck and pajama sleeve with crackling static electricity. They stood together that way – Sirius leaning dejectedly against the wall, and she keeping her breaths shallow so as not to close the infinitesimal distance between their bodies.

"You thought I was gonna make out with you, didn't you...?" Laughter bubbled just at the edge of his voice.

Hermione shot him a sharp glare out of the corner of her eye, trying to look disapproving but flushing slightly at being caught.

"I'm not _completely_ sex-driven you know..." he said wryly.

Hermione considered a multitude of different sharp, and rather abrasive, comebacks to this, but she was just too tired. "You're sweet," she murmured. Lifting her hand off the wall she braced it against his chest and guided him back. "But I can't let you and the others stay in this time."

Sirius groaned. "_Hermione..._"

"I'm tired, Sirius," she sighed. "I just want to take my bath and go to bed. There's nothing you or anyone could say to make me change my mind. Not even if you trained from dawn 'til dusk or did something equally ridiculous to try and prove yourselves."

Hermione looked him straight in the eyes and repeated herself quite clearly. "You _can't_ prove yourselves to me."

She patted his shoulder and said, if a bit awkwardly, "I'm sorry, Sirius."

He watched her step into the bathroom and close the door softly behind her, and only after he was left staring at the fissure that had earlier caught Hermione's attention that her words _really_ sunk in.

"I have to tell them!" he muttered disjointedly to himself as he pushed off the wall and sprinted for the Gryffindor tower. He just hoped he could explain what had happened just now.


	29. XXVIII Memories and Plans

**Completed: **3/14/05 10:47 PM  
**Posted: **3/14/05 10:54 PM

* * *

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the delay, but as you know my computer was dead for a good week. But it's okay now! Unfortunately I'm going to be in Cozumel, Mexico the 16th-24th. It's probably not fair that it's been a week since I last updated and now it'll be another week before another one, but it's not my fault. Trust me, there will be heaps and heaps of updates the day or so after I return, once I get everything onto I will be bringing the laptop with me so there won't be any delays for typing up. So anyways, here it is:

* * *

"_JAMES!_" Sirius shouted, tripping over the portrait doorway in his haste to share his revelation. "James, James, James, James, JAAAAMES!"

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you, Padfoot?" James exclaimed, appearing over the back of the couch. He looked bewildered as to what had caused the sudden surge of franticness in his friend.

"Everybody to the roof, let's go!" He demanded, making wild rushing motions with his hands. "Come on, come on, _come on_!"

James, Lily in hand, warily started walking towards the painting of Godric Gryffindor, but was spurred on by a careening Remus who'd been shoved that way by Sirius,

"_Let's go_!" said shover hissed, following up the train with his hands constantly pushing at Remus' back. James barely got the portrait open before they were all frantically pushed up the stairs.

They made it to the roof of Gryffindor Tower with a fair share more bruises than they'd started with, and in much fouler moods from the scene outside Hermione's bedroom. They circled up in front of Sirius, shivering in the cool autumnal air and scowling at him.

"What did you do to Hermione?" was the first thing out of Lily's mouth. "Did you hurt her?" was the second.

Sirius, for a moment, forgot his excitement. His anger answered the accusation.

"I would _never_!" he roared.

"We all know how you get, Sirius!" Lily yelled back, finding herself easily swept into the high tension of the moment. "She didn't do anything wrong!"

"And neither did _I_!"

"Pads, Lily – please, stop this!" James pleaded. Stepping in front of his girlfriend he held a stopping hand out to Sirius.

Remus cleared his throat; loud enough to get their attention, but still delivered with subtlety. "Hermione is fine, Lily," he assured her quietly. "He's telling the truth, but more than that...I know Sirius." Here his eyes darkened a bit and Lily tasted the bitter tang of..._jealousy_? "You need not worry for Hermione's safety where he is concerned."

"Right..." James exclaimed, a bit breathlessly. "Now that that's, er, settled – why in blue blazes did you kidnap us up here?"

Sirius covered up his chagrin at forgetting by crossing his broad arms over his chest. "Hermione's not gonna send us back."

Remus turned his head away in disbelief, Lily looked down at her feet, and James groaned. "We don't have much of a choice in the matter, mate," The shaggy haired boy reminded him, trying not to initiate another shouting match.

"No, I mean – she's _not_ going to send us back; she never planned to." Sirius threw up his hands in 'hallelujah', finding an unrecognizable semblance of sense in his own ranting.

"Were you listening to the same Hermione we were?" Remus asked, sounding skeptical of his friend's mental soundness.

"We're _useless_, remember?" James bit back his bitterness.

"It's all for show," Sirius insisted. "Really, you guys!"

Lily made clear her unbelieving stance. "So...it's like...a _game_." She spoke slowly so Sirius might realize how truly stupid he sounded.

"I talked to her Lily," Sirius said, flinging his arms out to her. "She said we 'couldn't prove ourselves'."

"This isn't funny, Sirius," Remus exclaimed. He spun away from the circle to stalk to the edge of the tower's balcony.

Sirius growled ferally in frustration and ran both hands through his hair. "You guys have to believe me," he insisted. "If you had heard the way she said it..."

James, feeling as though he had to stand up for his best mate in some fashion, stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and decided to throw Sirius a rope.

"And how _did_ she say it?"

Sirius waved his hands around, eyes looking up as he tried to sort out Hermione's words. "Wait...I think...yeah, her exact words were...'nothing you or anyone could say to make me change my mind. Not even if you trained from dawn 'til dusk...or did something equally ridiculous to try and prove yourselves'."

And Sirius had apparently chosen to take James' graciously donated rope and _strangle_ himself with it...

"Ya know it's a good thing you've cleared this whole thing up, or otherwise I might be wanting to hex you right now," Lily told him with dark sarcasm. Sirius looked down quickly in surprise and found that he couldn't see one of Lily's hands. And that worried him; he'd been on the receiving end of the redhead's quickdraw enough times to know that he'd like to avoid encores.

"Lily..._Lils_," Sirius held his arms out to her beseechingly. "Hermione repeated the same thing twice...I just _know_ she was telling me something. And that something was that I don't think Hermione _wants_ to send us back."

"What are you suggesting?" She snorted. "We train all day long, sneak down to the library at night to read up on defense, and by doing all of this convince _Hermione_, whom, I might remind you, is as foolable as Professor McGonagall, to _let us stay_!"

"...what do we have to lose?"

* * *

Hermione was already awake when the knock came on her door. She moved to wave it open, blouse raggedly untucked over her skirt, then stopped a moment. Her hand was even partially outstretched. 

For more complicated spells, she'd found that the physical act of hand gestures helped to channel her power and manifest it in the way she wished. So, for this spell which she hadn't used since her wand was broken, she raised a hand and made a swiping motion across the air like rubbing the molecules out of her line of vision. The solid tan coloring of her door smeared with each motion. Ron and Harry's faces were visible in the translucent oblong shape that had appeared in the middle of the door leading to the Gryffindor common room.

"Hermione – what the devil are you doing?" Harry exclaimed, looking right at her.

She cursed and snapped her fingers; returning the wood to its natural opaqueness and swinging the portrait open. "You weren't supposed to see me," she grumbled as they walked in on her tucking the tails of her blouse under the waistband of her skirt.

"Well then, your mirrow-window spell needs a little work," Ron criticized.

"Oh, shut up," Hermione quipped. "What do you guys need? Breakfast is over in a few minutes."

"You didn't wake us up this morning..." Ron commented, sitting on her vanity chair with a bed pillow in his arms.

"I figured I wouldn't be that welcome," she said simply as she leaned over the redhead to pin back the sides of her hair in the mirror.

"Didn't stop you before," Ron said in a sing-song voice.

Breath hissed above him and a hand went to the side of Hermione's head. She'd scraped herself with the sharp edge of her barrette.

"Let's just drop it, Ron," Harry said firmly. His eyes darted to Hermione's, but she was, stubbornly as ever, looking down. "We thought you should know they – I mean, the boys at least – didn't come back to the dorm last night."

"This morning?" Hermione asked, turning around and leaning back against the vanity table.

Harry shook his head. "Their beds weren't even slept in."

She nodded her understanding of the situation. "Here's what's going to happen: if Lily wasn't with them, there's a good chance she's down at breakfast right now. You two will go down to eat and if she's there she's there. I've got an idea of where the boys are, so I'll go and check there first before I come and meet up with you."

"Nice battle plan, general," Ron said with a teasing smirk. He was twirling Hermione's brush over in his hands. "And if you don't make it in time for the food?"

"Then I'll meet you in Potions." Hermione dropped her satchel over her shoulder and Harry and Ron were shocked to find that she'd finished getting ready without their realization.

"Let's go."

* * *

Hermione stepped into the Library as if stepping into her own bedroom. The musty smells were all familiar, the towering repetitive shelves like old friends. Her robe was off because it was rather warm in the school, and from prior experience knew it would be doubly so in the library. A warm smile and short nod was exchanged with Madame Pince in the manner of true library-goers, before Hermione moved on into the deeper bowels of the cavernous room. 

She found them, as expected, in the farthest corner behind the stacks. They looked an odd mess, Harry's invisibility cloak tangled up around them and obscuring random body parts. It was a good thing Hermione had found them first. Lily was missing most of her body below the shoulder line and both James and Sirius had sacrificed arms and hands. Remus' Roman nose looked as though it had rather savagely been cut off, taking a good piece of his cheek with it.

They were all asleep.

* * *

"_Black! What have you gone and done now?" Molly Weasley bellowed._

_Up on the landing fifteen and fourteen year old, Hermione and Ginny, respectively, stifled their giggles behind their hands as **two** Sirius' loped into the kitchen. The matriarch of the Weasley family had long since banished them to their beds for the night, but the prospect of gleaning information from the Order had emboldened them to creep down the stairs in their nightclothes and slippers._

"_Oy!" They heard Fred exclaim. "He thinks he's as cool as us."_

"_Poor show, old man," George tutted._

_The two Siriuses grinned, and proceeded to stalk the flustered Mrs. Weasley around the kitchen._

"_Which one's the fake?" Ron demanded. If Hermione lay diagonally down the staircase she could see Harry and him prodding the clones in the shoulders and testing the lean muscles in their arms for inconsistency._

_Before Hermione could stop her, Ginny called loudly down the stairs. "Sirius, shouldn't you be sleeping?"_

_The wizard closest to them turned around, and found a face hanging down off the landing that didn't match the voice. Hermione giggling churlishly with the younger girl blushed red and disappeared back out of sight. "A hero knows no bedtime!" He boomed jutting his elbows out and resting his fists on his bony hips._

_A chorus of 'ah ha's echoed across the tiled room, much to Mrs. Weasley's dismay and she hurried to shush them all and keep the portrait of Mrs. Black from waking. The second Sirius groaned and slapped his forehead. "You idiot!" A female voice insulted, words thick with a distinct northern England accent. The clone's appearance shifted and shrank until it matched the slighter, feminine frame of Nymphadora Tonks._

"_Ya blew it," she muttered. "What a doof I have for a cousin."_

_Sirius waggled his finger up at the two girls, knowing they could see him though he was hard pressed to keep his wide grin rueful. "Tricky girls..." He pouted and the two young schoolgirls, hands over their teeth-bitten lips, raced up the stairs and flung themselves onto their beds, giggling._

* * *

_The sixteen year old Hermione tightened the knot of the afghan she'd flung around her shoulders to ward off the fading March chill. She'd forgone a shower that morning for fear of waking others in the house and so her inordinately frizzy hair was combed back into a ponytail that looked like a kneazle had perched on her head. But neither of these things were too bad, and she even managed to ward off some of the cold by standing in front of the running oven; it's warm air venting along the backs of her black tights.._

_She stirred fitfully at the bowl of frosting, spurred on by the chiming of the clock above the refrigerator and the snores of Ron and Harry passed out at the kitchen table; they'd been far from helpful. The loud maddening beeping off the timer cut through the silence and she jumped on it to silence the noise. Charming the wooden spoon to continue stirring the frosting, she levitated the two cake pans out of the oven and onto cooling racks. Blowing on them softly to ensure she wouldn't burn her fingers, Hermione popped both chocolate tiers out of their metal confines and deftly stacked one on top of the other. Wiping her hands on the back of her jean skirt she reached for the frosting bowl only to find that it had disappeared._

"_Did you make this for me?" Came a warm voice over her shoulder._

"_Professor!" Hermione cried in dismay. She turned around to find Remus Lupin leaning against the counter in a pair of slept-in jeans and yesterday's cardigan, scooping frosting right out of the bowl with his finger. "I tried not to wake you..."_

_He smiled warmly and gestured to the still-lit oven with chocolate covered digit. "I could smell something baking. It does smell delicious by the way."_

"_We wanted it to be a surprise," she complained, throwing her dishtowel down onto the counter with a huff._

"_We?"_

_Hermione flushed as Ron gave a particularly loud snort from the dining area. "The boys were really excited about it, but the twins kept them up real late last night playing quidditch, and they've never really been morning people..." she trailed off._

_He laughed, quietly. "Why don't you go and wake them and I'll finish frosting the cake. I can't think of a better way I'd like to start my birthday than to have chocolate for breakfast."_

_Hermione smiled and relinquished her reign over the small kitchen of Grimmauld and moved to do as he suggested, though unable to withhold one small tease. "And will any of that frosting actually make it on to the cake, Professor?"_

_The lined skin around his mouth crinkled into smile lines as he grinned almost impishly at her. He brandished the mixing spoon like a flag. "I can't make any promises."_

* * *

"_You know Miss Granger, when the time came for the staff and myself to choose which exemplary student would receive the honor of Head Girl there was no other candidate who met each criterion with above and beyond distinction as you did."_

_Hermione flushed, and duly so. It was a rare day indeed when a student received such high praise from the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "Thank you, sir. I have never felt prouder to be a member of this institution than I do today."_

_He smiled brightly, blue eyes twinkling. "And I have never felt prouder of this institution."_

_Hermione flushed again and looked down at her lap, feeling uncharacteristically abashed. Dumbledore chuckled, tucking his beard under the desk as he reached for a lemon drop in the dish at the desk's corner. "Minerva was a bit worried you know," he told the seventeen year old girl conversationally. "Despite how she may act, she is very fond of you Miss Granger and she was worried that we might have to pass you up for someone more...sociable."_

_Hermione's honey eyes were as wide as saucers as if she'd never even conceived the notion she might be looked over for the position. A weathered hand patted her own that gripped her tea cup._

"_Don't worry child, you pulled through for Minerva. In fact, your growth these past two years reminds me so very much of two Heads I once had the pleasure of overseeing."_

_Hermione followed his gesture with curious eyes, but when her gaze landed on the picture of his warm admiration she felt sick to her stomach. She'd been with Harry enough, seen the poured over pictures so much that she knew those two faces as well as her own. _

"_The Potters, sir?" She choked out in her own disbelief._

"_Oh yes, they were very into their own groups, just as you once were with their son. But then they met, despite their friends' better efforts" – he chuckled here at memories Hermione couldn't fathom – "and never were they more happier than the day I saw them married."_

_Compared to Lily and James Potter? Hermione couldn't fathom how ever they would be on the same scale – Lily was so powerful; powerful enough to stop an unbeatable wizard without ever lifting a wand. And James, he was a leader through and through; inspiring hope and commanding respect in a way Harry could never amount to. With such histories, Hermione felt severely insignificant; scarcely holding up her end of the comparison._

"_They would be proud to know that their son has a friend like you, Miss Granger." Hermione swallowed slowly, though she wondered how she was able her throat was so dry, and she thanked him._

_As she left the Headmaster's office she swore to herself that she **would** make them proud, that she would never accept the absolute limit, and that she would find every way and use every last ounce of herself to see that the son they never got to see, that they died for...made it out of this war alive._

* * *

They were the memories she treasure most. Memories that, she told herself, weren't important, all the while knowing that they'd never leave the niche she'd created for them in her heart and in her soul. 

But the people in those memories no longer existed. Two she'd seen die firsthand, the others she was glad she hadn't. But dead was dead, and her soul was a little less complete without them.

They weren't simply names, but faces she'd seen in photographs and standing across from her at Christmas parties. They were people; people with loves and interests and dreams and ends that had come before their time.

It was one of the few things that Hermione Granger just didn't understand. The people that surrounded her now had the same hopes and the same laughter; the same light. But the faces that sat beside her at breakfast, or partnered beside her in Charms – they didn't match the memories she treasured. And did that mean her love in them was misplaced?

She knew she cared deeply for them, but was it because of the people she'd know before? Or because of the people she knew now? And if it was the first – was that a wrong reason to care for someone? In matters of the heart she was substantially inept, and that was why she found it so much easier to just close it off entirely.

Hermione looked down at the lot of them and sighed; a melancholy sound. They would never understand...

She moved about quickly, closing books and collecting scattered notes and doodles. Her footsteps were quiet, her movements catlike, and she considerately banished the crumb-scattered dishes that should never have been near so many priceless books in the first place. She frowned at Lily who had chosen to use _The Rise and Fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ as a substitutionary pillow and deftly removed the invisibility cloak from all of them, folding it up and tucking it into James' satchel. She wiped the comical drool form Sirius' mouth with her sleeve and brushed back the thick bangs from Remus' forehead.

Then she stole back away as quietly as she'd come.

Lily awoke to the sound of a female voice drifting back through the stacks. She lifted her head to the sound and the page of the book she'd been sleeping on stuck to her cheek.

"—_pedia of the Old Ways_ come in yet?

"Yes, it's already on the shelf," Madame Pince replied. "You'll be the first—"

But Lily didn't hear the rest of the conversation.

"James!" She hissed, shaking the sleeping boys. "_James_, wake up!"

"Ungh...?" He groaned and looked up blearily. His bedraggled black air was smooshed all to one side. "Gnhk?"

Lily assumed this meant 'good morning Lily, how lovely to see you this morning. Whatever is the matter?' and answered appropriately.. "Hermione's _here_."

James was now wide awake and following Lily's finger with his eyes. Hermione was indeed standing at the front desk, conversing with the librarian in surprisingly above-whispering tones.

"I thought the plan was to be secretive," she jibbed. While James moved to wake the other two, Lily stuffed their stack of notes into her knapsack and began banishing books.

"What's Hermione doing here?" Remus whispered, keeping his voice low in its sleep-husky tone.

"What do you mean 'what's she doing here'," Sirius hissed. "You guys practically live here."

"Both of you shut up!" James hissed elbowing the two boys apart as they started to trade good-natured punches. "She's coming this way."

From their vantage point crouched behind the stacks they could see her curls touching her shoulders, the Head Girl badge that shared the same initials as her name. As she stepped aside and into one of the aisles, Sirius led them out of their hiding spot and they raced as silently as they could to the other side of the room. The quartet froze when Hermione cleared her throat.

They could see her face a moment before it disappeared. She'd magicked the library ladder over to her and was climbing up it to one of the topmost shelves. Pressed single file along the stone walls of the room, the Marauders held their breath as they moved down the way, praying all the while that they could reach cover before the brunette decided to look around from her perfect view spot.

The click-clack of her mary-janes as she descended might as well have been a screaming child yelling "run! run now!", for the four escapees took off running for the exit. They darted around the door, then reopened it a crack to see how close their potential discoverer had been.

She was walking slowly, head bent down over the now opened book that she had gone to such lengths to procure. Lily was the only one to see her close the book with an inaudible sigh, and after a pregnant pause tuck it under her arm.

The redhead's nose wrinkled in confusion and bewilderment at the signs she wasn't sure she was seeing. "She looks so..._sad_," she whispered, and then James was dragging her down the hall and to the relative safety of the Potions' classroom.

* * *


	30. XXIX Proven

**Completed: **3/21/05 7:00 PM

**Posted: **3/24/05 10:05 PM

A/N: Whew! This is definitely a long one. And hopefully it'll explain a lot of what's going on. And did someone ask for a fight sequence?

A/N2: For the sake of FF being gay, segments that are written as being crossed out or stricken through are underlined. Not the same, I know...

* * *

The air between the two groups was uneasy; a raindrop hanging off the edge of the roof waiting to fall and splatter across the pavement. It was a problem that Hermione had made clear would not be confronted or challenged, but it was also too important to simply ignore. This was far different than ignoring Hermione's chilling mood swings – it was a decision about four teenagers' fates. 

The days that followed were tension filled; a barrier in the air so strong, even the "emotionless" Hermione was affected by it. She was jittery and skittish whenever she didn't look as if some rampant thestral had just run over Crookshanks, and her jumpy movements made any who approached her temporarily twitchy as well; like her behavior was contagious.

Harry and Ron, becoming worried of her increased melancholy, agreed that the presence of the Marauders should have been advantageous to her "condition", but the solution had a tiny flaw. The Marauders were never around. They skipped meals, were out until all hours of the night and up before the sun rose – Hermione had even once commented under investigation that _Lily _and _Remus_ had been arriving late to Arithmancy.

Ron thought there was some sort of conspiracy, and Harry rationalized that if it had been him, he would have been avoiding them like plague too – both made it a point to be there for their friend. With only one day left before the Marauders were returned to their time, the boys had teamed up to get Hermione through her day without mishap.

Losing herself in thought was becoming far too common for the Head Girl and she was often found wandering the halls with a dazed look upon her face; most especially when she was supposed to be in a class. She'd refused to eat breakfast, and was now sitting with Dumbledore through the trio's lunch break.

That was why Harry and Ron were sitting outside the tall gargoyle statue that guarded the staircase of the Headmaster's offices. Long legs stretched out before them, they slouched and leaned against the wall idly bouncing a small ball of light back and forth to one another.

"What's the time going on now?" Ron asked, prompting Harry to check the magically spinning watch he'd pulled off his wrist and laid next to his knee.

"Blimey..." Harry muttered, knocking the ball back with a swat of his hand. "Nearly an hour. If she doesn't show soon, we're all gonna be late for Care of Magical Creatures."

"Old nutter," said Ron darkly. "Can't believe she still trusts him."

Harry just shrugged. He wasn't Hermione, nor could he fathom or explain what kept drawing her back to the Headmaster's door for advice and counsel. The minutes ticked by to the odd snapping sound Harry's watch made as the animated hands chased one another around the circle, chomping their jaws in anticipation.

Stone on stone grinded out a painful squeal and boom show as the gargoyle lifted itself up and hobbled off to the side, revealing an already spinning staircase. Harry staggered to his feet, knees cracking from sitting too long on the unforgiving stones. "What was that about?" He asked, brushing off his now-dusty trousers.

"Hmm?" Hermione blinked a few times before her eyes could lock onto his face without drifting or glazing. She'd stepped off the staircase and walked a good ten paces, all without realizing either of them were there.

"That's right," she was murmuring to herself. "You walked me here..."

"Hermione?"

She made a noise of startlement, and looked back up at Harry. "Oh! Yes?"

"I asked what it was you went to see Dumbledore about. You wouldn't tell us earlier."

She smiled and Harry wished it was a true one. "Oh, nothing," she said; which seemed to be her answer for everything these days. "Just some Head business."

"Without Malfoy?" Ron asked. He'd banished the ball with a wave of his wand and was now standing as well.

"I had a few of my own questions about the ball," Hermione clarified. "Clearing a few things up, you know."

Ron and Harry exchanged looks. "Well, we better hurry if we're gonna make it to—"

"Ron...can you do me a favor?" She asked, ineterrupting him.

"Uh...sure?"

"Well you see," she began as they walked. "I need someone to set up the entertainment for the ball. Maybe you could get Fred and George to help, I don't know. The person I had before is, uh, no good."

He groaned, more in annoyance than that he was doing her a favor. "What lazy prefect am I covering for this time?"

Harry's elbow connected painfully with his chest.

"Can you just do that for me? Thanks," Hermione said without waiting for an answer. Her pace had picked up.

"Hermione." Harry called out, noticing she'd started to wander again. "The entrance hall is this way."

Wordlessly, she changed direction and headed down the first flight of stairs on the way down to the bottom floor. Ron held Harry back from following, and punched him solidly on the arm.

"What was that for?" Harry exclaimed.

"Why'd you hit _me_?" hissed Ron.

"Because you were being an idiot, as usual," the dark-haired wizard mocked. "She was talking about Remus, you ponce."

Ron groaned and threw up his hands. "People need to tell me these things," he griped. The red-head scuffed the floor with his shoes. "I still don't see why she won't let them fight with us against You-Know-Who."

"You mean Voldemort?" Harry corrected blandly, to which Ron glowered at him. "She has a point though. If one of them dies here..."

"But that's the thing! She also said they were still continuing to live in the past while they were living here, like two bodies or something."

Harry was..._surprised_. "I didn't even remember that," he confessed. "If that's true, then the body that dies here, wouldn't matter, would it? Or would that kill the body in the past?"

Ron made a face and Harry felt a headache forming between his eyes. "I have no idea how any of this time traveling works..." Harry sighed.

Ron sighed too. "But Hermione does. You've both done it, but she's been researching it since, well, before she performed the ritual I'm sure."

"All we can do is trust her," Harry reasoned. "You can believe she's researched this backwards and forwards – if the Marauders can't die in this time, then they _can't_ die."

Ron was fussing with his tie. "Still, that's not to say they can't stay a while longer. Voldemort has no reason to specifically target them; he doesn't recognize your parents."

"You've seen how good we are at changing her mind..."

Distractedly cracking his knuckles, Ron gritted his teeth in frustration. "If we can't, then who can?"

Harry frowned a bit, then said, grimly. "The Marauders."

Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Really? You think so?"

"If they stopped avoiding her and us, and actually set their mind on changing hers..." Harry shrugged.

Ron stopped walking. "Harry?"

Lifting one eyebrow, Harry regarded his friend's sudden stop with an odd inquiring expression. "What, Ron?"

Ron pointed down the grand staircase, where all the shifting stairs could be seen straight down to the bottom, and Harry followed his gaze, though not sure what exactly it was he was supposed to be looking at.

"Where's Hermione?"

* * *

Behind closed doors, Hermione faced off with the one who'd pulled her off the stairway and into this abandoned classroom that smelled as if it had once been used as a Potions storeroom. With nothing but their soft breathing filling the room, they could hear the low, melancholy melody playing in one of the neighboring rooms; most likely Muggle Studies. 

"Remus?" If she sounded surprised it was because she was.

"Hey..." Having carried out the actual act of yanking her into this classroom, presumably to talk, he'd reverted back to the Remus she'd known as a child – contemplative and careful in his speech.

Instead of reverting to her original demeanor as well, Hermione's newly established anxiety only got worse making her fumble over her words. "If it's yesterday's Arithmancy notes you need, I-I have them right here."

Routing through her satchel, Remus had to actual grab her hands to make her stop. "No, no Hermione! I didn't come for no—"

The aforementioned papers fell out of her bag and spilled in a mess across the floor. Hermione didn't meet his eyes, and Remus sighed and stepped back away, dropping her hand.

"It's not like I'll be needing them anyway," he murmured passively under his breath.

Hermione ran a distracted hand through her hair. "Look, Remus—" But he held up a hand, stopping her attempts to explain herself or whatever she had planned on saying.

"I'm sorry – It wasn't my intent to argue that particular subject with you either." He began digging in his own bag, and Hermione admitted that her curiosity was peaked. Not surprisingly, it was a book he lifted up in his hands, but it was not the kind of book she'd have found in the Library. It was a journal; dark tan leather with a tong-clasp along the side that held it shut.

He held it out to her then, and she actually feared for half a thought to take it. Then her own fingers curled around the edges, and when he was sure she'd firmly decided to take it he let go.

"Read it or don't; it's your choice. Either way I need it back by tomorrow. The others don't know I've taken it or that I'm giving it to you, but..." He stopped the busy work of re-closing his satchel and just stared at the floor, as if frozen by his own indecisiveness in words. "You at least gave us the respect to tell us of our future before sending us back; it's my personal belief that you should learn something in return."

Hermione nodded – what else could she do? – and slipped the book gingerly into her knapsack.

"I have to go...Harry and Ron will be looking for me..." With that weak excuse she pushed open the classroom door, breathed in a long draught of fresh air, and hurried off down the Grand Staircase.

Only after she'd left did Remus realize that she'd forgotten her Arithmancy notes. Going down to his knees he neatly restacked them in their rightful order by the numbers inked into the lower right hand corner of each parchment. He'd leave them back in the common room for her when she came back from dinner.

He had reached the ninth in the series of notes on "Numerology in the 1800's", when he found the tenth page covering an odd bulge in the paper pile.

Setting aside the notes he'd already collected, he brushed off the tenth page and uncovered a most peculiar thing; an envelope. He assumed it had merely gotten caught in the shuffle to hurry and get her notes out for him. It wasn't unthinkable that she kept a steady correspondence with her family, or maybe it was that Krum fellow he'd overheard Ron complaining about.

All those thoughts fled his mind as quickly as scuttling acromantulas when he turned it frontways and his own name appeared along the centre in Hermione's precise, flowing script.

* * *

_Remus John Lupin_

_

* * *

_

The letter hadn't gotten caught up in the notes; it had been planted there. For him to find. Not even able to _think_ about waiting to read it back in the common room, Remus lowered himself down onto the floor and after brief hesitation slid his finger beneath the flap, breaking the wax seal.

* * *

Harry and Ron, assuming Hermione had gone on to class without them, had to run the whole way, but they made it to Care of Magical Creatures just as the third bell was tolling. Not that it would have made much difference anyway – Hagrid wouldn't have taken house points. Hermione, troublingly, wasn't there. 

Lily, James, and Sirius were though, and they seemed just as anxious about their missing companion as the duo. Both groups looked around, scanning the vast grounds with their gaze, and even broke the stalemate to inquire if they'd seen Remus _or_ Hermione, but Hagrid drew their attention back to class as he started them on the long march into the Forbidden Forest to observe dryads.

Neither Gryffindor came.

* * *

Hermione sat by the edge of the bath she'd drawn up in the Prefect's bathroom, and traced the diamond emblem embossed in the cover of the leather journal sitting in the lap of her terrycloth robe. Unhooking the tongs, she brushed them off to the side and out of her way. Well-worn parchment, crackled under her fingertips as she dragged them along the edge before flipping open the cover. 

The first page was filled with varying scripts, though a majority of it was in Remus' handwriting. At the very top, in fact the first thing written, was a single sentence – all in capitals.

_HARRY IS JAMES AND LILY'S SON._

It was circled.

Beneath it were various theories, some crossed out and others with explanations scribbled beside them in the margins at a later date. She flipped through the pages, not really surprised at how much they'd let slip, or what the Marauders had managed to garnish out of other people on their own. The questions and speculations ranged from their own personal lives to obscure topics like what had ever happened to their crazy Astronomy professor. There was even one voicing the thought that perhaps she and Remus were related – someone had doodled a stack of books beside the words.

The journal was nearly halfway full of these writings, but Hermione stopped where she was and flipped back to the first page. Beneath the first line was a sentence declaring James and Lily dead; a bullet point beneath gave the evidence that Harry had said himself he was an orphan. Remus and Sirius were listed below as still being alive – they hadn't yet gone back and changed those hypotheses.

A quill materialized in her hand; working itself into existence from the tip upwards. Dipping it into one of the ink wells that had appeared beside her, she circled the first most line again and the bold green ink blared obtrusively out from within the all-black page. Her hand then hovered over the next line:

_James – dead._

After a moment of silent deliberation, she added two words:

_Murdered; Voldemort.._

At an achingly slow pace, as if her own hand sought to betray her, three more words were forced out after the first two and they were the words she wished she didn't have to be the one to tell. They read:

_Betrayed; Peter Pettigrew._

She continued down the page as such; crossing out the falsehoods with red and writing her own notes in the green. It seemed to take forever just to finish that first parchment, but when she had finished she realized that the process had been more than just putting words to paper – the subject of those words had left her emotionally drained.

_Lily – dead.  
__Murdered; Voldemort.  
__Betrayed; Peter Pettigrew.  
__Love for Harry saved him__, destroyed Voldemort._

_Sirius – alive_.  
_Dead. Two years.  
Murdered; Bellatrix Black.  
Fell through "Veil" in Department of Mysteries._

_Remus – alive.  
__Dead. 5 months.  
__Captured; Voldemort.  
__Set loose on Muggles; Exterminated._

Beside her the bath water had grown cold.

* * *

The single sheet of parchment was folded into thirds, creases strict and harsh in their uniformity. Hermione's letter had been written in dark blue ink, though it only spanned the length of half a page. Leaning back against one of the desks he quickly began to read. 

_Dear Remus,_

_I'm writing this letter to you because I feel that you would be the one most receptive to what I have to say. Not only that, but there is a more personal reason that I write this. Out of all the Marauders, you were the one I was closest to. The point of this letter is this: It is not for trivial purposes that I must send you back. In fact, my main motive is rather selfish. When I knew you, you and Sirius were friends of mine; Lily and James, people I admired and aspired to be like. And for the past two months—_

Here the last line had been stricken out.

_I'll probably never say this, and you can see I'm finding it difficult to write as well, but I care so very much about all of you, as well as the people you become. The altering of the timeline affects me a great deal less than the thought of losing those four people in my life. And for that, I do not apologize._

_You trusted me when I was younger, so trust me now._

It was signed with an 'H' and nothing more.

He didn't know what to make of the letter; it almost didn't feel as though it had been written by the Hermione he knew. But there, the characteristic loop of her 't's – that was Hermione. And that faint smell of vanilla that was dispelled into the air each time the folds crinkled – that was her too.

Still in a daze, he reached for the envelope and another object slid out onto the floor. It was squarish, with a glossy sheen, but only when he flipped it over did he realize it was a photograph.

There was Hermione, sitting at what looked like a dining table, and though he realized it must have been taken when she was younger, she looked nearly identical to the way she appeared now. Her bushy hair was as unmanageable as ever, bound up in a pony-tail, and though one hand held a ridiculously burnt-orange afghan knotted shut around her shoulders the other was – typically – holding a book she was reading open on the table.

There was something going on at the other end of the photo and when he turned to look he was stunned at what he saw. There was Ron and Harry, and..._him_. He looked so _old_. His hair was a lighter brown and flecked with gray, especially along the temples. When his picture self turned to look at the picture taker he saw three claw scars stretching across the side of his face, and far too many age lines for someone in their late thirties. Was this genuinely the man he turned out to be – the one Hermione and the others had truly known?

The photo was moving, as all wizarding photos did, and he paused in his thoughts to watch the scene that had been caught on film. There was a cake sitting in front of his older self and he could piece together what was left of it to determine that it had once said 'Happy Birthday, Remus!'. It was all chocolate and he was starting to salivate just by looking at it. The pictured Ron and Harry kept trying to snag bites, but the older Remus proved quite possessive. At the other end of the table, Hermione's shoulders were shaking and it was quite obvious she was laughing. Shaking her head, she licked the spoon of the frosting bowl sitting next to her and went back to her book.

What Hermione had said had been true. They had known one another, and judging by the light atmosphere of the photograph they'd been on better than good terms. The photo was well worn and bore a stronger scent of vanilla that made his wolf senses tingle and him want to sneeze; she must have looked over the photo just recently. The back bore a line of Hermione's cursive.

_March 10, 1997_

It had been taken only six months before their arrival through time – his birthday; and yet Hermione had stated firmly that his future self was dead. No wonder she felt so strongly about their possible deaths, when his own had just occurred, sometime during the six months prior.

He wondered if their arguments had brought up the image of his death in her mind...

Remus decided he didn't want to know.

* * *

When at last Hermione closed the book and set down her quill, the bath beside her was ice and the candles had all melted down into their stands. Looking down at the pool-sized tub, colored a murky brown from the green bubbles that had dissolved in it by her neglect, she decided a bath didn't really seem that soothing after all and pulled the drain. 

It was late – she knew that – and she'd definitely missed all her afternoon classes and most likely dinner as well; she'd have to owl the professors for her homework, though she was pretty sure she'd already done her Astronomy up through Sunday. Sighing, she got dressed, and when she left the bathroom it was with the journal tucked securely under her arm.

As she started down to the grounds for training with Harry and Ron, her paces shifted between excited and hesitant – a match to her conflicting mind. She'd already set everything in motion, but was she prepared for whatever outcome occurred?

* * *

Harry and Ron sat on the two large stones beside the lake; idly taking turns skipping smooth stones across the glassy surface. Night was beginning to fall and both cast wary glances to the castle lit up in the distance – if Hermione didn't show for training, they'd go for the Map. 

"Hey..." Ron nudged him, and Harry stopped looking for new rocks to throw. "Is that her?"

Harry looked back over his shoulder and felt an instant wave of relief. The silhouette had caught sight of them and was now picking up their pace to a run...bushy ponytail whipping behind them.

"Yeah..." He said. "That's Hermione."

They watched her run closer without any sign of slowing, and when he realized she _wasn't_ going to Harry gave a shout and pulled Ron flat against the rocks. Hermione, still in her school uniform, vaulted off the ground in front of them and, after months of training in extreme gravity, leapt high into the air. Spinning end over end, arms folded tightly over her chest and legs pressed flush against one another, she cut short Ron's annoyed "show off", flinging one arm out and flooding the clearing before her with light.

"SHOW YOURSELVES!"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks as if to say 'has she gone mental', then quickly scrambled off the rocks to stand beside her – serving as backup for whatever ghosts she'd imagined. Then movement flickered in shadows behind the illuminated trees that lined the edge of the Forbidden Forest and both boys went into high alert – wands appearing and bodies in position to attack.

Faces and then bodies moved out of the forest cover and stepped out into the clearing; the blinding light obscured their faces. Hermione herself looked menacing, the light that hid the intruders features found every line and bend in her face and filled it with shadow. Set with the grim expression she wore and the raw power streaming from her fingertips, she was a fear-inspiring sight to behold.

Hermione closed her fingers then, and so too went the light, leaving the clearing illuminated only by the power of the sinking sun. Remus, James, Sirius, and Lily stood in a line before them; each three paces apart.

"Your presence is no longer required here," Hermione told them.

Lily stepped forward. "Yes it is."

"We're not going to let you send us back," Remus swore, stepping up as well.

Ron felt Hermione stiffen beside him and cast a sidelong glance her way, but her eyes were narrowed fiercely. "Oh really?" Her mocking tone was cold and flat.

"We'll fight you if we have to, but we're _not_ leaving," Sirius said, and Hermione fixed him straight in the eyes.

"_Prove it_."

If there had been something to say that would have spurred them on that was it, for even as she spoke all chaos was breaking loose. From behind each of their backs, the four teenagers produced a weapon; as well as the wand that appeared in each of their hands. At the first glint of steel, Hermione was shouting out orders to her own fighters.

A cacophony of roars rose from the Forbidden Forest as Ron called the creatures of the wood to his aid, and the Marauders scattered to keep their backs from the forest. Lily ran for high ground where she could better use her bow, Remus took up a stance on the edge of the clearing with his staff, James and Harry circled one another with their swords testing the other, and Sirius came straight for Hermione.

She dodged once, twice, then leap-frogged over him as he lunged for her. She was taunting him he knew; knew that there was a mocking smile hidden just behind the firm, serious lines of her face. Hermione dodged again, prancing backwards a step than darting just out of reach again, all without ever trying to land a hit.

Then, Sirius saw his opening – and as she was jumping back to avoid a kick, he pushed off hard with his grounded foot and punched her hard in the stomach. She took to the air like a ragdoll out of a slingshot, his magical strength propelling her across the clearing. She hit one of the sitting rocks along the water's edge with an explosion of dirt and rubble and when the smoke cleared around her sprawled body, a crack wide enough to slide a galleon through had split the stone in two.

As Sirius advanced on her unmoving body, Harry and Ron were experiencing problems of their own.

While Harry would always be his better in swordsmanship, James' courage proved infallible, urging him to take risks and attack maneuvers that didn't promise a positive outcome. But while his twin continued to fight him physically using his ability on himself, he was also turning his inexplicably mastered power on Harry, who felt his own bravery faltering.

Blocking a downward swing from James, Harry held him back as his wand came up in a split-second movement and exploded the ground at James' feet, knocking him off balance. Harry leapt upon the opportunity and brought his sword down to pin him, but not only was James already rolling out of the way with an agility he had hitherto not possessed, but Harry was brought down by one of Lily's enchanted arrows – that pierced him perfectly above the heart with magic, not iron.

With Lily watching his back as well, Remus had launched his full powers upon Ron, who was now struggling to focus and control the wild beasts that were now circling them both. Where the three most powerful abilities of the seven had obvious uses for evil, the lesser four had found their powers' darker sides to be more hidden, more sinister. Sirius could melt muscle and shatter every bone with a single touch. James could suck every last drop of courage from a body, and fill them with such fear that it either paralyzed or killed them. Lily could cut off the flow of blood in a person and completely stop their heart from beating. And he, Remus, could fill another's head with every awful, horrifying truth – millions of voices driving them to insanity.

He used this power to dredge up the truths Ron had tried to forget, feeling all the more evil for his was a personal, violating attack. He chose to only scratch the surface – stealing Ginny's prefect badge, failing Advanced Potions – but when one of the grindylows bit down on his jeans he was forced to go a bit deeper, throwing both hands out.

Voldemort was growing stronger, they were losing the war – all these he coupled with horrifying images that brought Ron down to his knees. A pair of unicorns whinnied from the fringe of the forest and reared up, shaking their silvery manes. They came back down pacing fretfully across the dirt, before one became so distressed that it stopped trying to decide what Ron was attempting to tell it and galloped into the unsuspecting Remus.

Sirius dodged a round-house from Hermione and was startled to see when he straightened, two balls of fire hurtling towards him. He rolled out of the way, and though he missed the fire attack he was caught on his knees when the lake reared to life and with a swing of Hermione's hand crashed over the lip of the clearing in a giant wave of frothing water. Sensing what was coming next, a waterlogged and sputtering Sirius barely got onto one of the sitting rocks before a bolt of lightening crashed down onto the flooded clearing and made all the water boil and crackle with conducted electricity.

"You've been practicing..."

Hermione was levitating herself, flying above the dangerous waters so as not to endanger herself before the electric current wore out, and seeing Sirius appearing helpless stranded on his rock, she swooped down on him, arms outstretched for his throat. Too fast for her to react to, the dark-haired wizard had grabbed one of her forearms, ending her levitation, and was throwing her over his shoulder. With a shriek of surprise, her free hand found his hair and her nails sunk in, pulling them both down into the electricity-charged waters.

Lily's arrow had brought a splitting pain to his head, and most of his left side was now numb, but Harry still fought on with his wand – sword hand now hanging uselessly at his side. He swept James' legs out from underneath him as he charged, and shot a stunning charm at his back. A last minute "Protego!" deflected most of the attack, but James was still disoriented as he got to his feet. As his opponent tried to get his bearings back, Harry decided it was time to us his own power.

The bow was taught, the glowing arrow held perfectly straight between her fingers, and her eyes were sighted perfectly down the shaft, but Lily was suddenly finding herself unable to fire. All her attention was focused on the heart beating so loudly within Harry's chest she wondered how no one else could hear it. And then it wasn't. Her aim was shifting with her attention and the person she was now sighting to hit...was James. A thought was worming its way through her consciousness, telling her to shoot, and she had a feeling that the thought made perfect sense. But she loved James, she would never want to hurt him...her own thought was barely a whisper as her fingers slipped off the feathers of the arrow and she let it fly.

"James!" The word, that she'd had to force from her lips, barely reached her love in time. He twisted to the side and the magical projectile missed his heart and struck him in the shoulder instead.

Both Potters were now on their knees.

Remus struck Ron in the stomach with the side of his staff, but with only one good arm it was barely enough force to knock the wind from him; the unicorn ride had left him with a dislocated elbow. Ron, temple bleeding from an earlier strike to the face, sent a swarm of snakes upon the other boy, having found the magical beasts were harder to control while Remus was invading his mind. They wrapped themselves around his legs, causing him to stumble back and only maintain standing by using his staff to brace himself. With the hissing and biting of the snakes – non-poisonous but still painful – Ron threw up his wand and shouted the disarming spell, sending Remus' staff spinning into the woods.

YOU CAN'T BEAT VOLDEMORT WITHOUT US!

Remus sent the thought screaming through the red-head's mind and at Ron's yell of pain, the snakes fell to the ground and scattered. The brunet accio-ed his weapon back and directed it, hurtling, towards Ron, whose shabbily constructed "bombarda!" shattered the wooden instrument and rained the oak shards down upon himself. Splinters embedded painfully all along his arms, which he'd thrown up to protect himself, Ron collapsed from his knees to his side and laid half-conscious on the grass, Remus' haunting truths reshuffling through his head.

Remus was unable to claim victory, however, for a glittering arrow had embedded itself in his back. His body arched, a soundless cry opening his mouth, and then the sickness-tipped arrow flickered and disappeared and he fell forward onto the ground, a rush of fever already beading his forehead with sweat and draining out his strength.

A battered Sirius and an equally haggard Hermione stumbled around the clearing, both clutching at the others throats. Not only was it hard for him to breath, but Hermione's hands were channeling pure ice, and frosted crystals were gathering around his frostbitten skin. Growing tired of their scuffle, he directed his strength not to tightening the grip on her windpipe, but on pulling her back. Slowly dragging her forcefully away, Hermione's fingers slipped off of his neck and she clawed and scratched at the exposed skin in an attempt to resume choking him.

With a grunt he threw her to the ground and she bounced on the damp bed of wildflowers. She growled up at him from her crumpled position and actually bared her teeth ferociously at him before he was thrown up into the air and then dropped as unceremoniously as she had been; something cracked, broken. She gestured with a hand to repeat the action, but this time he grabbed her first, and before he was even five feet into the air he'd launched her bodily forward like a shot-put.

She broke straight through one of the solid evergreens lining the forest and disappeared into the dark shadows of the woods, another **crack!** marking her fall, followed by the **crash!** of the tree's top half as it landed in front of Sirius, bisecting the clearing.

Lily had had enough of being controlled, and the headache only got worse as the amount of oxygen reaching Harry's brain lessened. James, weighed down on one side as the petrifying charm of Lily's arrow turned his shoulder and his arm to stone, continued to clash swords with Harry though the condition of them both made the fight a pitiful one. Sirius was hobbling over to help his fellow Marauder, and with Lily spreading the numbing spell faster through his veins, Harry was running out of options. As both his legs gave out, he gave one last ditch front and exploded with raw power.

Sirius had gained too much momentum to stop, and so as Lily jumped off her rock and flung herself right into his path, he smashed straight into her with his full strength still raging. They both went down, but it was the petite frame of Lily that went skidding across the grass like a skipping stone, and rolled to a stop against one of the trees.

James' body had turned completely to stone, but as the gray cement crept up his neck he managed one last crack. "Come on, Harry...I can still take ya..."

"You...wish..." Harry slurred – his mouth had gone numb. With one last lopsided smile, he fell onto his side and was unable to control the muscles that held his eyes open, so he looked as if he'd merely fallen asleep in the grass.

Ron had fallen, Hermione had fallen, Harry had fallen.

Lily was slowly picking herself up off the ground, and Sirius called an apology. Seeing as he was the only one still able to get to his feet, he stumbled over to James, the now nicely-posed-statue, and performed the complicated counterspell. As the stone chipped off of James' face, Sirius heard something that made him whirl around.

It was Lily's strangled "Enervate!", and it was _Ron_ springing to his feet. Ron immediately counterspelled Harry to return the favor of controlling Lily to revive him, and with a whistle was immediately astride one of the unicorns and charging straight into the band of survivors.

Gaping at the quick turn of events, Sirius cursed Harry loudly enough for the recovering wizard to hear and demanded that James' "de-stone faster". A quick blast from Ron's wand knocked Sirius back off his feet, but that was all the farther he got because, in a daring maneuver, Lily had leapt up and tackled him straight off the unicorn. The two of them, tussling, rolled down towards the lake where Ron's summoned merfolk were throwing rocks.

"Let's switch partners shall we!" Harry exclaimed in exhilaration as the fight got back under way. True to his word he circumvented the still "thawing" James and leapt with sword in hand upon the prostrate Sirius. Their swords met in a clash of sparks and screeching metal.

James counterspelled Remus and burst free of the cement encasing his legs as the shorter boy came running up to aid him. Lily had Ron in a choking position with her bow, but his birds were swooping down and grabbing great clawfuls of her hair as the merchildren rained pebbles down upon her. Sirius had been disarmed, but he was, with his bare hands, moving Harry's sword point away from his chest and tilting the blade to Harry's throat instead. With a nod to one another, the two remaining lifted their wands high in the air and charged down into the separate battles – James to Ron and Remus to Harry – the air ringing with their adrenaline-laced yells.

"**STOP!"**

A seismic shock ripped through the ground, churning the soil and uprooting the grass in a devastation ripple that tore apart the combatants and flung them across the ruined clearing.

From the shadows, appeared a specter, eerie in the soft glow it emitted and the shimmering sphere around it. It took them all a moment to realize it was Hermione drifting in her magically crackling bubble to the clearing's center. Her arms were flung out like a cross and the blood of her beatings ran down them and dripped off her wrists like black teardrops. The droplets hit the bottom of the energy sphere in which she was suspended and hovered there a moment before sinking through and staining the grass ebony in the darkening sky.

"We are finished now," she said, and her voice boomed across the small space like it had been projected through a loud speaker.

The light around her flickered and she fell the short drop to the ground. On all fours, she convulsed pathetically and retched blood upon a bedraggled clump of dandelions. Appearing weaker than they'd ever seen her, the six sets of eyes watching remembered just how small a person she was. She stayed that way, head bent, without moving.

Then she cleared her throat, without any rasp or catch, and stood up to brush herself off as if nothing had happened. Ron was the one who thought to cast the lumos spell. Upon inspection from their relative positions they all saw that, though quite bloody, Hermione's face and all other parts were undamaged.

She moved to the edge of the lake and sent up a ball of light that was far more effective than Ron's pitiful glow and served to illuminate the clearing for them all. Looking at one another they were relieved to find each other unmarred as well; in the heat of the fight they'd forgotten about the _Decantalus_ spell. The confusing part was that their fight had lasted much longer than five minutes.

"I made sure to recast the spell when needed," Hermione explained, reading their expressions. She turned back to the lake and lifted a handful of water to her face; pink rivers dribbled down her throat. "Couldn't let the lot of you go back all black and blue just because you wanted to pick a fight."

They'd all stepped up to the waters edge now and she could see Sirius' deeply engrained scowl. "We should all clean up." Wordlessly, the others kneeled down alongside her and there was only the sound of hands splashing the water for a long time.

Then Remus' voice broke over the sound of water. "Hermione..." He made sure to get her attention before he pulled the slender box out of his pocket and handed it to you. "Um, call it a farewell gift."

Hermione sat back on her haunches and regarded him stoically. She took the box, but said: "I thought you were going to 'stop me from sending you back'."

Adorably, Remus smiled at her, though there was a line of dried blood across his nose that he'd missed. He shrugged. "Just in case..."

She snorted, but pulled off the lid all the same. The backs of her hands were still caked with trails of blood, and there was dirt and worse stuck under her fingernails, but her palms were relatively clean, and as it was, she couldn't resist picking up the object nestled inside the modest white box.

It was a locket.

The linked chain was heavy and bore on its end a goodly-sized, oval shaped casing that promised to hold a picture within. She opened the clasp and rather than finding a picture a light beamed out in front of her and like a little projection it played the same short scene over and over again. It was the scene in the wizarding photo she'd given him.

Hermione watched it as if mesmerized and then quickly shut it again as if the extra eyes watching it made the gift and what it contained somehow less personal. Doing so, she noticed the words engraved on the back:

"_I understand"_

Hermione pooled the heavy chain in her hand and closed her fingers around the precious locket. "Thank you," she whispered throatily, and Remus knew enough not to say anything in return or the moment would be ruined.

Hermione cleared her throat and added in a low voice: "Your book is over there, uh," she had to cough to clear her throat again. "On the rock."

"Oh," he said – what else was there to say? "Okay."

Hermione, having pocketed the locket, then shoved her arms under the water up to her elbow and, deeming herself satisfactory got up and made ready to leave. Re-sheathing her wand, she fixed her hair and said, without looking back; "You should all get to bed. We have classes in the morning."

Harry and Ron ran up to her, but Lily and the Marauders were left frozen. Almost as though they were afraid that speaking of it would make what had happened just disappear, they exchanged shocked looks.

"Do you think—"

"Really?"

More looks.

"Does this mean we get to stay?" Lily called out, but Hermione was already halfway up the long trek back to the castle. The redhead turned back to the boys with eyes a bit wider than normal and said in a clearly dazed voice "I guess we passed."

Sirius, of course, took this moment to boast. "I told you I was right...yeah, bet there's some pretty red faces in this lot."

"Padfoot, you can't see our faces..."

"Lucky for you Prongsie; think of your pride!"

Stepping back from the light banter, Remus quickly jogged over to the rocks Hermione had indicated and felt around in the weak light for the notebook. He found the soft leather after a few seconds of groping and pulled the book into the protective confines of his jacket. Once it was secure he hurried to catch up with the others who'd already started for home.

* * *

It was later that night, when James had gone to check on Lily and Sirius was embarking on a solo kitchen raid, when curiosity called to Remus in the shape of the familiar journal. He supposed he was just wondering if whether or not Hermione had indeed looked at it, but whatever the case he found himself leaning over his bed and digging the book out from one of the crates he kept there. 

Meticulously he packed his Transfiguration homework away, but really it was a vain attempt at distracting him from the temptation the book provided. Finally, all that was left in his lap was the journal. He undid the tongs, but left it shut. Remus swore he was just going to open it to the middle of the pages to see if she'd left her characteristic vanilla scent, thereby proving she'd read it.

With a quick jerk he opened it to a random page, but got no further than that. The page was filled with green writing – Hermione's cursive. Disbelieving, he flipped through the rest of the book and it was all the same. He turned back to the first page, his own name catching his attention, and he was physically unable to stop himself from reading.

_Remus – alive.  
__Dead. 5 months..._


	31. XXX Understood

**Completed: **03/25/05 10:50 PM

**Posted:** 03/25/05 11:18

A/N: Think I can finish TR in a week? Let's go for it peoples!

* * *

The Marauder's belief proved correct when they were brightly awoken the next morning by Hermione, who seemed to be running late herself as she only stopped to shove coffee at Harry before making her apologies and all but falling back down the stairs – bare feet slapping on the marble steps. While Harry and Ron satisfied their bad caffeine habit and a squeaking Neville realized he'd slept in, the three other occupants exchanged stupefied looks – as if they'd half-expected to be sent back in time while they were sleeping. 

Make that two occupants.

"Come on, Moony, wake up!" Sirius said loudly, slapping Remus' bed. The bunched up comforter deflated under his hand and through the blankets he hit mattress. A rather unnecessary flinging of the sheets off the bed confirmed it – Remus wasn't there.

Sirius made a face at James who only shrugged and began digging under his bed for trousers.

* * *

Lily, sweeping her bangs to the side in a barrette, couldn't help but laugh as Hermione tried to run about the common room with what seemed to be her entire room on her back and get ready at the same time. Just when it looked as though she was going to head right out the door, Lily felt she had to speak up. 

"Hermione!"

The one-girl-disaster stumbled around and almost dropped her coffee. "Eh?"

Lily pointed down. "Shoes?"

Hermione looked down as well, her stocking-covered toes wiggling up at her. If she had a free hand with which to slap her forehead she would have done so twice. As it was, she just sighed. "Right..."

Hitching her satchel higher up on her shoulder and shifting her substantial stack of library books to one hand, she might have actually tried to balance her cup on top of her head if Lily hadn't jumped in to save her. With a wave of her hand, Hermione's Mary-Janes came whizzing through one of the open windows of the common room – Lily assumed because they couldn't get through the password-locked portrait. The brunette tugged the paten-leather shoes on with an amusing-to-watch little hop dance, and then she was retrieving her beverage and downing quite a significant amount in relation to how hot it must have been.

"What would I do without you, Lily," Hermione chuckled, pushing open the portrait and stepping out into the tower hall.

Lily quirked her head to the side, the comment had been so odd. Hadn't she just been ready to send her back some fifty years? Shaking her head, Lily followed her out letting the still-dozing painting of the Fat Lady drift softly shut.

Hermione Granger was certainly a puzzling character.

* * *

When they reached the Great Hall, Hermione excused herself from Lily, saying that she needed to get the homework she'd missed from the Professors. The redhead smiled and went and took a seat beside Remus, who was already eating; nose deep in his restrained Monster Book of Monsters. 

With a bit of a skip-step, Hermione picked up her pace and with a rapid tip-tapping had mounted the short flight of stairs that raised the platform from the rest of the Great Hall and was approaching the Teacher's Table. She waved to Hagrid and was about to head for the opposite end, when Dumbledore caught her eye.

"Miss Granger!" He exclaimed warmly, lifting his drinking chalice in hello.

"Good morning, professor," she responded in kind with a short curtsy. "I trust everything is well?"

"I should be asking you." Behind those famed half-moon spectacles, his keen blue eyes were glinting with hidden knowing. "Rumor has it the ever punctual Head Girl was absent from her afternoon lessons this day prior..."

"My apologies, professor. During lunch yesterday, I seemed to have come down with something of a chest cold. Such things are common this time of year, so I didn't want to bother Madame Pomfrey with something so trivial. And after all, it seems a little rest was all I needed."

Dumbledore beamed. "That is good to hear. I myself developed quite an itch in my chin just last ni—"

"Albus!" Minerva McGonagall shushed. "Miss Granger is here to collect her homework, I'm sure," she said this with a pointed tone. "We mustn't detain her."

"Oh! Quite right, quite right." The Headmaster crowed. He smiled at the young girl again. "You'll forgive an old man his ramblings. Minerva here didn't think my itch was that serious, but _I_ think it might be a sign I'm coming down with a case of the _polskies_..."

"_Albus_ – stop making things up," Minerva hissed, jabbing him sharply with her elbow. "_Really_, quite inappropriate behavior for a Headmaster of Hogwarts..."

Dumbledore winked at Hermione, and with a grin she made her escape down the table.

When she saw the professor she needed getting up from his place and moving to leave, she picked up her pace once again and deftly slid herself into his path. _Remember what Lily said_, she told herself, and in fact managed a true smile as he approached.

"Good morning, Professor Snape!" Her smile widened as he jumped a bit, not having noticed her before. "Did you have the baked ham this morning? I heard it was particularly good—"

"What-" he snapped, black eyes narrowing. "-are you doing, _Granger_."

"I was only making light conversation, sir," she insisted demurely.

Snape flicked his voluminous black-on-black robes beyond him (probably preparing for a good billow) and sneered down at her with a particularly intense distaste. "Five points for your cheek, Granger, and a further five for needlessly detaining me from my work."

Hermione bit the side of her tongue to keep from blurting out something that would without a doubt result in further point-deduction from Gryffindor or possibly detention. Instead, she took a more serious approach – one Snape could connect with. "It is not needless. In fact, I need your assistance." The glowering professor raised an eyebrow at this. "I seem to require silk worm chrysalises – you must have some?"

"Silk worm chrysalises?" he hissed. Snape's eyes darted, searching for any onlookers whose ears might have wandered from their own conversations.

"Yes; two."

He regarded her with a dark countenance before his lip curled back in a superior sneer. "What project is the pet of the Headmaster ensconced in now?" He said contemptuously.

Hermione bristled, her pride now pricked, but again held her tongue. "An Order experiment," she told him in a voice hardly above silence.

"Experiment," he snickered derisively. "No experiment requires something as rare as chrysalises – silk worms' no less."

"_Fresh_ chrysalises," she corrected.

"You foolish girl," hissed Snape. "This is no mere parlor potion you're working on. It sounds to me like Dark—"

"There's no such thing as Dark magick," Hermione interrupted. "Only magick—"

"—more powerful than others," he finished with a smirk. "You've been talking to Dumbledore."

Hermione was getting impatient. "The chrysalises?"

"I have not heard of any potions experiments for the Order..."

"And I'm sure you'd be the first one they'd contact, sir," she told him tersely. "But as of yet, no one in the Order knows about it. In fact, you are the first – so in fact you have heard—"

"Will I be forced to take more points from your house, Granger, or has your tongue tired from its impetuous _wagging_?" he threatened.

"With all due respect, professor, you do not seem to be a man who could be forced to do anything he does not wish to do," Hermione said truthfully.

Snape stared her down, folding his arms into the folds of his robes and attempting to intimidate her with his superior height and stance. Hermione didn't budge. Though he hadn't responded well to her attempts at cordialness, she respected the man enough to at least be truthful.

"Impertinent girl," he said finally. "The reasons for Albus' favor in you are clear."

Hermione's fists clenched, but she needed those chrysalises. Again, she said nothing.

"I will inquire with the Headmaster of your..._request_," he sneered.

"I need them tonight," she said.

"No you don't. While foolish, you are far from the incompetence of Longbottom; if you couldn't get the ingredient from me, you'd leave yourself enough time to get them by other means."

"I don't know what you've heard, Professor, but I can't say I have 'other means'. The next Hogsmeade trip is two weeks away," she said.

"Do not insult _my_ intelligence, Granger," Snape answered darkly. "I will speak with you _tomorrow_."

With a whipping of his robes over his shoulder, the tall Potions Professor stalked around her with bat-like billow of black clothes and a sinister scowl and descended through the Great Hall's side door into the dungeons – blending in perfectly, she thought, with the dark, dank shadows and fly-stuck cobwebs.

Collecting herself, she turned on her heel and marched smartly down the stairs and to the Gryffindor table, where the rest of the boys had already arrived and begun eating.

"What was that all about with Snake?" Ron asked through a mouthful of hash browns as she sat down across from him.

Making a face at the disgusting display, she set down the platter she'd just picked up – deciding she didn't want hash browns after all – and moved instead to grab a few pieces of toast. "Oh, nothing," she said, and Harry frowned just out of her line of sight.

She bit down and scrunched up her face. Cold. She _detested_ cold toast. "We're going to need to get ten points back, by the way," she told the group with a napkin wiping at her mouth as she finished chewing.

"Nice going!" Ron complained, and Hermione stuck out her tongue at him.

"You're wearing a ribbon."

Hermione's laughter died off and she looked at Remus, for it was he who had spoken, with a look of confusion. "Excuse me?"

The brunet smiled kindly and pointed to her hair. "You've put a ribbon in your hair; I just noticed."

A hand went to her hair automatically where she'd tied a bow of soft blue ribbon around the rubber band that held back the front of her hair. "Oh..." she said, rather lamely, embarrassed that she'd forgotten. "I just had some of it lying around, so..."

Remus chuckled.

"Should I take it out?" She asked, putting a hand to her hair again. She made a face. "I look silly, don't I..."

"No, no," he insisted, waving his hands in front of his face. "Leave it. It's very pretty."

Hermione flushed and lowered her gaze. "Oh, um, thank you..."

She turned back to her plate, lifting her golden goblet to her lips to try and cool the unfamiliar heat that was rising in her cheeks by the second. Remus coughed, and when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and over the rim of her glass, she saw that his face was almost completely hidden by his Care of Magical Creatures textbook.

Over the pages, Remus watched her reach across the table for the milk pitcher, and as she did so, a glimmer of gold spilled from the open collar of her blouse. "You're wearing the locket," he murmured.

Remus didn't think she'd heard him, but she immediately answered. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Well, it's very beautiful," she told him, cupping the tail of the necklace in her palm. Instead of allowing the blush to rise in her cheeks again, Hermione turned to wit instead. "And it was given to me by a good friend whom I care a lot for, so it is an honor for me to wear such a gift."

She cast a sidelong long at him through her lashes and he laughed softly at her, cheeks rosy. Then he shook his shaggy head and picked up his own goblet. "What a handsome friend you must have to give you such a handsome gift."

Hermione laughed, loudly this time, and let the locket fall back against her chest. "It is a _pretty_ gift, from a pretty friend."

Remus attempted to look wounded. "Calling a man 'pretty'? What a cruel heart you have."

Hermione snorted. "A man, are you?" She shook her head, curls bouncing. "Whose being the funny one now?"

Before Remus could answer, Sirius had stolen away her attention with a call of her name. "Hey Hermione..."

"Yes?"

Sirius was leaning over the table a bit, his tie coming dangerously close to hanging down into the honey saucer. "You weren't really planning on sending us back..._were you_?"

All eyes were on her. She was silent for a moment, and Remus could only imagine what it was going through her head. Then she smiled, but to the lycan beside her it seemed to strain her eyes; a smile not quite real. "No..." she said softly, and that was it.

"No!" Ron exclaimed.

"Dumbledore wouldn't even let me go back to Azkaban to retrieve the return ritual," Hermione explained.

"I don't think you needed it," James told her honestly. "I think you could have sent us back..."

A wane smile. "You overestimate my abilities and my memory. Without the ritual there was nothing I could do."

"_That's_ what you were talking to him about?" Harry questioned. To this, Hermione murmured an apology.

"I know your feelings are less than amiable for the Headmaster, but you should know that he is obsessively persistent in doing whatever is in his power to keep me out of Azkaban again," Hermione told her best friend in a voice that was itself less than amiable.

Remus could only watch as the young girl, who'd just moments before been teasing him and getting embarrassed over so silly a thing as a hair ribbon, began to retreat; receding away like the midnight blossoms of nightshade as the sun crept over the horizon. He wanted to intercede, to stop the conversation that was having such a negative affect on her, but for all the gold in Gringotts...he couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Of course he should!" Harry exclaimed. "You don't _want_ to go back do you?"

Hermione remained seated but she seemed in that instant to grow three feet taller. "If you had been there you would not throw such a question so carelessly about." Her voice, even as stone, would have slapped its way across Harry's face if it'd had the hand to do it.

If you could have seen Harry's face in that moment, your heart might very well have broken. It was Hermione's heart that did, or so it looked. Her posture deflated, her shoulders hunching and her eyes finding their way down to the silverware. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't wish to fight with you..."

"You're different, Hermione..." Her head snapped up in shock, but Harry was looking down at his hands. "You hardly sleep, hardly eat, and every time I talk to you...I have to wonder if your telling me the truth. What do you hope to gain by keeping everything a secret? What can be greater than everything you're losing to it? You think you have to take everything on your shoulders, to take care of everyone, but you're killing yourself because of it. What happened to my best friend...?"

Whatever this was, it seemed a long time in coming. Harry did meet her eyes this time, but he could be as emotionless as she, and it was Hermione whose face was red and her hands trembling. She stood up with such suddenness that the tabletop rattled and the bench scraped backwards with Lily and Remus still on it.

"I'll just stop pretending then, shall I?" she said hotly. Her hands were clenched so tightly into fists that they shook at her sides. With a fierce yank, she ripped the pretty blue ribbon from her hair and wiped what little lipgloss she'd worn from her mouth with a napkin. She threw both upon the table in front of Harry, whose face now clearly bore his shock. "If you don't mind," she said curtly, reaching up to grab a hold of the chain around her neck. "I'll keep my gift."

With her free hand, she scooped up her satchel and stepped back over the bench. "If you'll excuse me, I'd rather not finish this in front of everyone. Unlike you, I don't believe our personal problems deserve an audience."

She walked vehemently out of the Great Hall without a single look back.

Harry was staring hatefully at the tablecloth, hoping any minute it might burst into flames. Then he shoved back from the table and stomped off in the opposite direction.

Ron looked absolutely sick; Lily and the others positively shocked.

Remus had made up his mind. He may not have been able to say anything to prevent the scene from happening, but he was sure as hell going to try and make it better. Snatching up the forlorn ribbon, he ran out of the Great Hall waving off his friends' confused outcries.

* * *

He found her sitting beneath the large willow tree he and the other Marauders had so often occupied in their own time. As he approached he watched her vent her frustration on the innocent river rocks that had washed up on the edge of the lake. With one hand she motioned them flinging up into the air and with the other she pulverized them into irreversible specks of dust. 

"Nice shot," he commented quietly, taking a seat on the grass beside her.

"One of the first tricks I learned," she replied. "With this _curse_..."

Remus drew one knee up to his chest, making himself comfortable now that he knew Hermione wasn't going to try and blow him up next. "That's no curse," he said lightly. "I know curses, and, let me tell you, that, my friend, is no curse."

"What do you want?" she demanded, never taking her eyes off the rocks. His attempt at lightening her mood had failed most miserably.

"I came to listen."

Hermione snorted in contempt. "You mean you came 'to talk'."

"Nope." Remus merely shook his head. "I said what I meant – I'm here to listen."

She looked sharply at him, and it was the first time she'd even looked at him at all since he'd gotten there. Then she went back to what she was doing with a frown. "Then your wasting your time; you won't hear much of anything."

"You're talking aren't you?" he pointed out.

**PLOP!** The stone Hermione had flung up had been neglected and left to fall back into the lake. There was a disgruntled tremor in the water as the Giant Squid protested to having things flung at it, but then the lake was calm again and the two teenagers had nothing left to look at but each other.

"What...did you think you'd come here and be all perfect and supportive and I'd just pour my heart out to you?" she accused in a murmur. "Good try, but you're out of luck."

Remus just raised his eyebrows.

Hermione scowled. "Oh, you're just gonna sit there and _listen _– I _forgot_."

Remus didn't say anything. If she wanted to be mad at him then she could go right ahead, he didn't care. If all she needed was someone to sit there and serve as a target for her anger, then that was what he would do for as long as she needed him to.

He watched her blow up rock after rock, with patient silence. Then on the next round, instead of the usual shower of rubble, a sparking fireball flew from her palm and arced up into the air, landing after the **plopping!** pebble with a sizzle into the water. Hermione was staring down at her hands as if they'd somehow betrayed her.

"Who is he to judge _me_..." she whispered suddenly. Her forefinger traced the lines of her palm.

Remus said nothing.

"It's not as though wanting to protect people is the worst desire to have..." She wrapped her arms around her legs and set her chin down between her knees. "I did it all for him and Ron. Ginny, Neville, Luna. And now you four as well..."

She didn't cry, but there was still a cloud of utter sadness about her; choking the air around them. "Who will help the helpless, protect the guardianless? Who if not me? There is a threat here that needs to be faced, stood up against – so I am to be punished for doing what is needed? What is necessary? I do what I have to and I suffer what I must because if I'm the only one who has to then it's all worth it."

She turned her head to look at him, her small face buried in a mountain of tangled curls. She smiled, despite herself, at his devoted silence and murmured thickly "You can talk now, if you'd like. You can be a listener and a talker..."

He shrugged and turned to face her a little better. "I have nothing to say."

She scoffed softly at this; though, he was glad her anger had dissipated. And now it seemed her sadness was lifting too. "Nonsense. Everyone always has something to say about anything."

Remus smiled, all be it a bit lopsidedly. Hermione's smile widened a stitch. "I'm a funny girl you know," she told him softly. "You might not have noticed..."

"I noticed..."

"I'm just saying because not a lot of people do."

"I'm sure you're wrong."

"I'm not."

Hermione looked out across the lake and Remus sighed. Picking his words carefully, he said, "I think you should tell Harry what you told me just now."

Hermione actually laughed at the absurdity of the thought. "That whole speech? I wouldn't get a whole sentence in before we started arguing." She sighed and tucked a wind-swept lock of hair back behind her ear. "No...Harry isn't the listener you are Remus."

Remus shrugged. "He could be."

"You don't even know us."

Her words hurt. They cut especially more deep because he knew them in his heart to be true. Swallowing slowly, he said, "Look at the back of the locket."

Hermione did as he asked and once again read over the words engraved there. She shook her head with a bittersweet smile. "And what is it you understand?"

He caught her gaze and held it. "Everything."

"Not me," she said. "You don't even know half the things I do."

"I don't have to," Remus said simply. "I understand anyway. It doesn't matter what you do, or who you become...just read the back of the locket."

"Remus..."

He opened his fist above his head, and the ribbon she'd thrown down at breakfast unfurled into the cool air. They both watched it flutter bravely in the light wind.

"You are a remarkably ridiculous Gryffindor" was what she said.

Remus rolled his eyes, but took it as a compliment and scooted over in the grass so that he could tie the ribbon back into her hair. Her breath was hot against his arm as he worked to duplicate the perfect bow she'd had earlier and he too was aware of how close they were together.

"There," he said when he was satisfied. He lowered his arms but was still kneeling beside her. "If we hurry we can still make it to Transfiguration on time."

Hermione took his outstretched hand and he hauled her to her feet.

* * *

Hermione sought out Harry to partner up with in class, and though he couldn't hear what they were saying over James' loud boasts of his "mad skills", Remus hoped she'd found the words to help him understand. It was a tense time for all of them and patience was wearing thin on all counts. Lily herself, seemed particularly on edge as Halloween approached though he couldn't figure out why. 

He did know one thing though: No matter what she'd said in the Great Hall, Hermione _had_ fully intended to send them all back.

She wouldn't have written the letter otherwise.

* * *

>> Why hello to all you conscientious readers! Who doesn't love a good bit of trivia? Can anyone remember why Hermione might have spare blue ribbon lying around? Go super-sleuths, GO! 


	32. XXXI Mixed Feelings

**Completed: **3/30/05 10:25 PM

**Posted:** 3/31/05 3:26 PM

_Computer Note:_ Oh geezus. While I was saving this my laptop had another panic attack. Almost peed my pants, but I think everything's okay now...

_A/N:_ I know I said I was gonna try and have this done by Saturday, but I just love this story too much (and all you who read it) to just rush it. The thing is, April is my Novel-Writing Month (the official one is in November, but you know how I like to be early for things). So, basically, you write a novel which consists of 50,000 words in 30 days, not worrying about plot or w/e except the simple act of getting out a novel. That's about 1,667 words a day, plus classes and managing track. I'll do my darndest to keep TR on a timely schedule, but just so you know what's going on.

_Story Note:_ The Halloween Ball saga begins! We all knew something big was a'comin' and it begins next chapter. HB will be spanning two chapters _at least_ filled to the brim with the lovely escapades and wit you've come to expect, plus much more.

_Next Chapter:_ Ooh! I've been planning this for a long time. Even if you've never read any other part of the story, read this chapter. It's gonna be _good._

_ETA:_ Well, since I'm skipping prom, but going to afterprom Saturday I'll need something to keep me awake that long...I'd _like_ to say way late Saturday/early Sunday, but since I want this chapter to be perfect it might be later Sunday.

* * *

"HERMIONE!"

Harry pounded rather passionately on the Head Girl's door, but there was no answer.

"Great!" He exclaimed dramatically. "She's ignoring me."

"If you're looking for Hermione, she's not here." Lily was leaning over the balcony banister of the girls' staircase, the ink well in her hand giving the suggestion that she'd run out while doing her homework and just recently gone to fetch more.

"Or she's not here," Harry added nonchalantly as if that had been his second guess all along. "Where is she?"

It was Ron who answered, surveying the chessboard as his little sister struggled to comeback – tongue jutting out of the side of her mouth – not knowing she'd lost ten minutes ago. "With Remus. In the library."

"Ugh! She's _always_ with Remus," Harry whined. "And the library's so _far_."

"You're a woman you know that," James called from the window seat. Apparently Harry's hissyfit had woken him from his nap. "We are **not** related."

"Why did you need her—" Lily stopped halfway off the bottom step, and (having finally gotten a good look at him) started to laugh. "What did you do!"

Blushing bright pink, he tugged ineffectually at the black knot cutting off the circulation in his neck. "I'd tried to figure it out on my own..."

"What – how to make your own noose?" She exclaimed with a laugh.

The pink flush deepened to a hearty red and Harry glared at her at having been so easily embarrassed. "No! I don't know how to tie a bowtie," he grumbled. "I need Hermione to teach me how before the ball because once she—" Harry jerked his head in Ginny's direction. "—gets her claws into Hermione, I won't be able to get her to help me."

Lily stepped up and, using her superior fingernails, got the black cloth unwound from his neck, and Harry took a few grateful breathes.

"You never asked me if I knew how to do it?" She said after, looking quite put-out with her fists on her hips.

"You do?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No," she laughed. "But it's polite to ask."

Still laughing she headed back her seat beneath the window where all her books were spread out and a riled Harry made several faces at her turned back before James shot him a threatening look and for his own personal safety Harry moved to put the couch and most of the common room between them.

Holding the black strip aloft, Harry cleared his throat and shouted, quite unnecessarily "DOES ANYONE HERE KNOW HOW TO TIE A BOWTIE?"

A chorus of "no"s, and the continuingly theatrical Harry looked as though he were one step away from hurling himself off the Astronomy Tower. "The Library is like..._two whole_ floors away!" He bemoaned, throwing a hand to his forehead in a 'woe is me' manner.

"Why are we dressing like muggles for this again?" Ron asked. "Checkmate!"

Over Ginny's cry of despair at being beaten for the twenty-seventh consecutive time, a door slammed from up the boys' dormitory staircase; though, that didn't gain nearly as much attention as the loud decree that followed seconds after.

"LADIES! Avert your eyes! My stunning good looks have been exceedingly reinforced and the resulting sexiness is not for the faint of heart!"

"Padfoot, what in the blazes are you doing!" James shouted up.

Sirius had donned his ball tuxedo, for whatever reason that was unbeknownst to everyone else, and was now sitting on the railing of the stair's balcony; finely pressed pant legs dangling. He'd actually braided the back of his hair and so tightly in fact that with his messy top-hair and bangs he looked just like James from the front, and in that sense, Harry too.

"The names Black," he said suavely. "Sirius Black."

"Just what we needed," Lily sighed with a shake of her head. "Another Potter."

"Why _are_ you wearing your suit?" James asked, giving the _clearly_ looney teenager a bizarre look.

"Because I wanted to try it on," said Sirius in a child-like voice. He attempted to look bashful, and by his very nature failed miserably.

"Hey, Sirius!" Harry cajoled, wandering over. "You want to help me tie this, don't you?"

Waggling his eyebrows, Sirius popped off the pre-formed bow and waved it teasingly in the air. "Clip-on, mate."

Harry groaned.

"And when I do this—" he pressed some hidden device with an ease that made it embarrassingly obvious he'd been practicing and the bowtie started spinning madly around like a berserk Sneak-O-Scope. "Ta da!"

James shielded the side of his face as if he were declaring no affiliation with the escaped mental patient sitting on the banister and the only retort Lily could think of was "You're...an _idiot_."

Lost in Sirius'-world-of-madly-pretty-spinning-shiny-things, he sighed wistfully. "I _love_ Muggles..."

Now _purposefully _trying to strangle himself, Harry dragged himself across the common room, stopping only long enough at the portrait to declare that he was "hunting Hermione down" and would "be back eventually".

* * *

Harry walked straight to the back of the Library, knowing already that the incorrigible bookworm would allow no other table to support her research than the one the three of them had first used to save Hogwarts – before it had become routine to do so, obviously. The large oval table was tremulously sustaining a mountain of books, methodically stacked and probably organized in some inane but particular fashion. Leaning against the table leg was Hermione's seam-popping satchel, its blue ribbon tied to one of the rings on the side, and beside it was Remus' equally well-worn looking carrier bag.

What he _didn't_ see was either library-goer.

A thought struck him then, and it was so absurd at first consideration that he almost completely dismissed it. But of course he'd fought an epic battle with his tie and witnessed Sirius' obvious mental deterioration, so why couldn't something equally "absurd" include Hermione. Reeling the thought back in like a fish given too much lead, Harry realized how very possible it actually was.

_Were Hermione and Remus snogging in the stacks!_

Covert-mode-Harry looked hastily around then pressed his body against the nearest book shelf. He began serpentining his way through the shelves, peeking discreetly around corners and humming the muggle theme song of Mission Impossible under his breath.

When he did find them, and without their noticing, covert-mode-Harry was sorely disappointed. They were sitting side by side at one of the smaller tables positioned under the window, their backs to the beam of sunlight, logging the sun's position on their Astronomy charts. Not only were they _not_ snogging, but they didn't seem to be doing anything at all! They weren't even sitting that close to one another.

They were just..._studying._

Grumbling about "nerds" through his teeth, Harry admonished his overactive imagination and banished it to a time-out in the corner before reverting to his mild-mannered alter ego Civilian-Harry and walking up to the table.

Upon hearing his story, and chiding a snickering Remus who couldn't contain himself, Hermione sighed and agreed to a quick demonstration. Her "quick" demo as she'd termed it, had to be repeated twice more before Harry could do it all from memory. Swearing he'd name his first born after her, Hermione shooed him back to the common room threatening that if he didn't "stop interrupting her work with such trivialities" then he wouldn't "have a neck to wrap his bloody tie around."

When Harry was finally well and gone, she turned back to her work, but not before a hand sought out her own beneath the concealment of the table. Feeling utterly "Lavender-ish" in her mind but aflutter all the same, their fingers interlocked and his thumb resumed its earlier idle motion of ten minutes ago across the back of her palm. Neither said a word, fearing that to mention it would make the gesture lose its innocence or that calling such open attention to it would fill the amiable silence between them with awkwardness – who could say. As it was, Hermione resumed her schoolwork with renewed zeal and a tiny, uncontainable smile playing on her lips.

* * *

"Let's get out of here," Sirius complained, tiring of trying to balance his quill point-down on his nose. "Let's go _do _something."

James looked down at the Potions homework he _really_ didn't want to be doing and then over at Lily who'd fallen asleep on the couch. Her half-open book was held open by her knee though it was precariously jutting out over the edge of the cushions. Then back to his crumpled textbook pages. _Bleh._

"Alright, Pads. I'll get the cloak, you lead the way."

* * *

When she'd discovered how late it had really gotten and informed Remus that she had some extra energy she was going to expend by training, Hermione was pleased when he offered to accompany her. Repacking their things and placing books no longer needed back onto their respectful shelves, they extinguished their lanterns and left the library past the long-unmanned desk of Madame Pince.

"How late do you think it is?"

Hermione shrugged, her shadow on the dimly torch-lit walls distorting. "After ten – eleven, maybe?"

"Past your bedtime," he teased, and she snorted.

"If it's past my bedtime," she said. "Then you're a merman."

Remus pouted, his steel eyes shining in the flamelight. "I heard the sarcasm there. I'll have you know being a merman has always been my dream..."

Hermione smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"But no! Just go on and dash it! "

"I just did..."

"Crushing my childhood hopes, you know," he continued. He probably would have kept going too if Hermione hadn't punched him solidly on the arm.

"Ow!" He exclaimed. She shushed him. "That _hurt_!" He cried in that same loud voice that was sure to draw Peeves. Only when Hermione threatened to hit him again, did he lower his volume.

"You _punched_ me..." Remus said with all the disbelief he could muster stuffed into that one word.

"You deserved it!" She shot back.

Remus shushed_ her_ this time, all be it a bit more dramatically, and she glared at him. "Watch yourself when we get outside," she threatened. "Or I might just hex off something important."

Crossing her arms haughtily over her chest, she picked up her pace and left Remus behind her. The hard heels of her Mary Janes had a furious melody against the stone floors as her strides became more forceful. Remus laughed, and shook his head.

He caught up with her again once they'd gotten through the large entrance door, upon which time they both gravitated towards one another at the sudden wave of freezing weather and temperamental wind. Hermione did as best as she could. Stepping slightly ahead of Remus, she lifted her fists up to shoulder-height and channeled her magic as she flung her fingers out simultaneously. The weather's harsh attack on them lessened somewhat, as if they were feeling it through a thinly woven screen door, and they both deemed it tolerable enough to continue on.

"Still mad at me?" He asked with a grin.

Hermione's only response was to turn up her nose and ignore him. She nearly never acted this way, but it felt good – teasing and joking and laughing were a rare precious occurrence in her life. A glance out of her eyes caught Remus' pout and her shoulders started to tingle.

"Smile!" He commanded. He clapped his hands together as if expecting a prompt response. Easily maintaining a stoic face, she gave her walking companion a blank look worthy of a Slytherin.

"I can tell you're smiling on the inside," he said, nodding knowingly.

Hermione laughed, but to cover up for her failure in maintaining a straight-face she nudged him with her shoulder and he slid sideways in the damp grass. He shouldered her back and the ground squelched beneath her shoes. Both of them were grinning all out now as Hermione shoved him and he tried to pick her bodily up.

He actually got halfway through the act, and probably would have managed just fine with his lycan strength if Hermione hadn't been squirming like a possessed flobberworm. "Remus John Lupin!" She shrieked, laughing. "Put me down this instant!"

He lost his grip on her and she collapsed to the grass, but Remus wasn't so lucky. Slipping backwards, he went over the edge of the hill and disappeared from her sight. Shrugging out of her knapsack, Hermione crawled over to the edge, careful not to let the slippery ground pull her down too, and watched him somersault the last few yards and slid to a stop on his back.

Her giggling died, however, when she waited but Remus never got up; he wasn't moving. "Remus? Remus!"

She started to run down the hill but only made it so far before her legs were pulled too far ahead of her and she was knocked back and slid the rest of the way down with her robe bunching up into her skirt. Her momentum dragged her farther down than he'd gone and she had to dig her palms into the muddy ground to stop herself from drifting further.

Scrambling up to his prone body – wind howling in her ears, but heart pounding in her chest – she'd almost reached him...when he sat up.

"Hermione?"

Her limbs gave out and she collapsed from all fours onto the grass, smelling musky and strong, and rolled onto her back. Her head was reeling and the taste of blood had risen up from her veins into the back of her throat. She felt him slid down next to her even before he reached out to touch her shoulder.

She smacked him. Hard. "You idiot!" She hissed furiously. "I thought you'd gone and broken your neck."

Covering her face with her hands, she realized too late that they were covered in wet grass, but ignored it anyway and tried to ignore too the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. Conversely, Remus was now sitting up beside her and seeing her perfectly in the darkness as he swallowed his shock.

"You were worried about me?" He managed to strangle out. "I didn't think you cared that much..."

He expected her to laugh or say "of course!", but neither of them were really ready for the soft "I do" that breathed past her lips in a low voice usually saved for whispered words in the common room or dark shadows of the hallways, not in some conversation laying wet and muddy at the bottom of a hill.

Not Hermione or Remus took the initiative to break the silence that followed and after a moment the young woman turned her face away and stared off into the distance. Had it been the letter and the book, his listening beneath the willow tree? Or did it go all the way back to when he'd first gotten here and Professor Knoll had let slip just how extreme their memory altercations had been? When had Hermione begun thinking of what Remus might have said to one of Harry's comments, or how he would have launched into a lecture when Sirius did something stupid? When was his face the first thing in her mind when she woke up?

It seemed all so sudden, and maybe the realization of how close Remus had come to being sent back had played a part in the whole affair, but as the cold seeped into her clothes all she could seem to recall was memories of Remus that had before slipped through her fingers.

Remus sitting beneath her window seat as she read aloud...  
Remus's supposed love letter, or so Ginny said...  
Remus racing her to DADA...  
Remus walking her back from a Quidditch game...  
Remus...had she really brought him to Azkaban with her magic...  
Remus's face staring back at her from the hospital bed – the first thing she'd seen...  
Remus at the prefect meetings...  
Remus climbing the oak tree with her...  
Remus' boxers sitting on her dresser...  
Remus' wolf calling out the beast of her power...  
Remus' locket...

She was going nuts, she decided. Somehow she'd accidentally taken a Polyjuice Potion and since she'd never executed properly before, she must've somehow slowly begun transforming herself in Parvati. She wasn't supposed to be thinking about boys – especially not _one _boy – but focusing on her studies and trying to figure out how to end the war. Not a tall order by any means.

Yes; that was it. She was just going block out all the faces and all the smiles and just...just not let it happen anymore.

"Hermione...you're going to catch your death of cold lying like that. We ought to go back inside."

Hermione turned back her face to look at him and was met with caring gunmetal eyes. Remus was considerate and kind and...there was no way Hermione could just ignore him. Softly, she said, "It's your fault I'm down here anyway...stupid Marauders," she added as an afterthought.

She sat up and Remus started to laugh. Blades of grass had dried and stuck to her cheeks and along the line of her hair. "You look ridiculous," he told her unsympathetically. Licking his thumb he tried to rub roughly at her nose like Mrs. Weasley was fond of dosing, but she swatted him off.

She couldn't, she shouldn't, but he was smiling, and then she was smiling and wondering where the hell her self-control had gone. She let him brush the grass from her face, her eyes doing a nauseating dance between his and her lap like they couldn't make up their mind between what they'd rather watch and which was safer to.

"Remus..."

Her lips brushed the underside of his wrist as he moved to dislodge a blade of grass from her hair. They both froze. The hand that was so soft holding her own was now pressed against the side of her face and a healthy blush was rising to Hermione's cheeks.

Wasn't this how kisses happened in the muggle movies? She hardly dared breathe.

If they kissed what then? Would dates and cuddling in the common room follow? She couldn't imagine herself in the place of all those actresses she'd watched in her summers. And Remus didn't exactly fit the persona of dream date. He'd go back to his own time and forget all about her and whatever they might do together, but she'd be left in the cold future; empty and alone and with all her bittersweet memories still intact. Remus would never live long enough to see his own memories restored and Hermione would be the only victim.

After all, wasn't that why she'd denied her and Sirius the chance? Or was it?

No, it had to be or else she wouldn't have this ache in her heart with Remus' face so close to her own. How could she say that now she was willing to throw the rules to the wind after she'd turned Sirius down? Their friendship would be over and irreparable damage would come down upon the Marauders as she'd known them.

But that didn't matter either, did it? Sure things would be wrecked now, but all it would take was a single spell to send them back to their time; without a single memory of the future and still the same people they were before they were brought here.

Hermione pulled her head back and Remus quickly took the hint and retracted his hand. She sighed. There was certainly one of the reasons time travel was forbidden – it was just too damn confusing to sort out. But Hermione stuck with her earlier instinct. Bad things would only happen if deeper relationships were allowed to be formed...by anyone.

"Come on," she said standing up. "I still owe you a few good hexes for sassing me..."

Remus recovered quickly. "Sass? I sassed not!"

As the two teenagers headed for the clearing, they weren't watching to see the two forms suddenly appear beside the oak tree; a shimmering bundle in one's arms catching in the half-moonlight.

"That was certainly worthy of passing on to Lily," James commented lightly, clapping Sirius on the back.

"Let's follow 'em."

James rolled his eyes. "I don't wanna follow them. It's _cold_."

"What if they try and do something again?" Sirius demanded, peeking through the foliage to watch them go.

"They didn't even do anything _this_ time." James was clearly exasperated.

Sirius shot him an annoyed glare.

"Look," James reasoned. "Neither of them are very easily involved, and they know it wouldn't work out 'cuz of the time difference and stuff..."

"Didn't stop _me_ from kissing her."

James jaw dropped and he gaped at his long-haired friend as if he were some other entity entirely. With a growl, Sirius pushed off the tree and stalked back up towards the castle. He was betrayed and hurt, but mostly disbelieving. They'd been _her_ bloody rules.

"Let's go," he snapped. "I'm freezing my tail off."

* * *

When Hermione and Remus returned a little before midnight the group was crowded around the fireplace, their customary seats, and Lily was just signing off on a very large package that had been delivered by a team of owls.

"Those are our dresses," Hermione said matter-of-factly and alerting the group to their presence.

"Do you want to see them?" Lily exclaimed excitedly.

Hermione laughed and held her hands palm up. They were caked with mud and grass. "I should get cleaned up first?"

The redhead's nose wrinkled up and she muttered something about "unladylike", and for the sake of getting her shower sometime soon, Hermione decided not to reopen that particular argument just now. Still trying to keep her hands from touching anything she walked over to Ron and asked him to dig the necklace out of her robe pocket.

"Blech! Hermione Jane – you smell like something worse than what the kneazle dragged in," he said as he routed through her pocket.

"Thank you for the glowing compliment," she huffed. "Be careful, I took it off for a reason you know..."

Ron gave her a rather viscous pinch through the soggy cloth of her robe and she jumped. "Got it," he declared when he pulled the gold chain free. "Now both of you go shower before Harry here gets physically sick."

"It's true," Harry apologized. "I'm very sensitive you know." Hermione made sure to leave a nice brown handprint across his cheek before heading into her room.

Twenty minutes later, when she was sure she'd gotten all the "nature" off of her person, she found that she was actually feeling rather exhausted. Grinning wryly as she ran a towel through her bushy hair she thought that maybe Ron was right – all that thinking was bad for her. Digging her most comfy flannel pajamas out of her bureau she pulled them on and was surprised to find that they were close to fitting her again.

She was slowing putting Azkaban behind her.

Propping open her door so that she wouldn't have to re-enter the password, Hermione padded out into the openness of the common room. When she came to a stop in front of Ron, he automatically reached to give her back her necklace, but instead she held out her arms and pouted like a little girl. He obligingly unfolded himself from the couch and got up to give her a hug.

"I'm gonna head in for bed," she said when they pulled apart. She took her locket back and refastened it about her neck. She moved to Harry now and he got to his feet to give her a goodnight hug as well. "We've got a big day tomorrow..."

Halloween.

"Actually, Hermione," James' voice stopped her. Sirius was sitting silently beside him. "We were just divvying up dates between the group."

He gave her a winning smile. "Now...I know you had your heart set on going with me. But I'm already going with Harry..."

Hermione hid her chuckles behind the cuff of her pajama top.

"Any preference?" James was careful to not let his gaze slid to either Sirius or Remus.

"Lily of course!" Hermione laughed. "Sorry you guys, but she's prettier than all of you."

Lily laughed too.

Tossing her wet hair back over her shoulder, Hermione brought her amusement down to a smile and said. "Actually, the Heads are required to go together so I'll have to meet you guys there."

Harry's face darkened and he made a face. "I forgot," he grumbled.

"Don't worry," she said easily. "Malfoy I can handle. I'll ditch him as soon as I can and find you all. But for _now_...I'm going to bed as I'm sure the infamous Marauders have devised _something_ to consume the day tomorrow."

At this, Sirius finally seemed to perk up out of whatever slump he'd fallen into and the three boys exchanged gleeful looks, while Lily adamantly claimed to taking no part in their "childish games".

Halloween would certainly be something to remember this year.

* * *

>> Aw! Come on now super sleuths. **Jenn** was the closest, but still not close enough. A ribbon's a shape is it not? Perhaps you might find the answer in one of the "shape"-titled chapters from earlier? 


	33. XXXII Hogwarts The Musical

**Completed: **4/7/05 9:43 PM

**Posted: **4/7/05 10:15 PM

A/N: Yes, it's been ages. But you'd be surprised how long writing 1,667 words of an original story takes. I'm already behind a couple thousand 'cuz of track and sickness looks sheepish. Just remember I'm NOT abandoning TR.

ETA: Who knows. I have the novel going on, plus I just found out I have a stomach ulcer. Bleh. I shall do my best to get it out in a week, but now you see why this one took so long. I had to do extra composition for it (poetry no less!)

Enjoy it as thoroughly as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

Sunlight streaming in through the tower window infiltrated the sleeping senses of Hermione Granger and brought her out of her rest before her alarm could; but that wasn't unnatural. Sitting up, she pushed the covers back and stretched her arms high up over her head. Music was filtering in from somewhere, and the low rhythm of it began rising in volume as Hermione neared total alertness. 

"_Every morning_—" Hermione's melodic voice rasped a bit from hours of disuse while sleeping and she stopped to conjure herself a glass of water. She sipped the cool liquid, and then placed the already condensing glass on her bedside table.

The music began again and Hermione climbed out of bed.

"_Every single morning it's the same;  
__I wake up and feel as though," _She walked to her window and looked out to where the sun was just beginning to light up the lake. "_Nothing's even changed._"

She slumped against the wall and drew the draperies across the cool window pane.

"_I've got nothing to show  
__For all the work that I do  
__And each sacrifice I make.  
__Nothing's gotten better_..." Softly, she closed the shutters, completely blocking out the sunlight. "_Have I made some mistake...?_"

"_My actions are futile;  
__A wreck. A mess.  
__People still in danger,  
__But yet I digress..._" As she sang she hurried across her bedroom to the glinting vanity table and fell into a graceful lounge upon the cushioned pedestal chair, long legs trailing out over the floor to the side.

"_Every single morning it's the same;  
__I see your face in place of mine_." Her fingers caressed the cool glass as her reflection shimmered and warped into a familiar face with sandy brown hair and warm gray eyes. "_The mirror offers me a smile_."

"_And I smile in return, but still I decline  
__The chance, the possibility._"

She splayed her hand over the mirror and Remus' face disappeared. She was back on her feet.

"_The opportunity between us,  
__For something that could be much mooooooooore._"

The crescendo died off and she found herself pressed against her bureau, arms folded across the curved top. Laying her head down upon her forearms her curls spilled out in a sleep-tousled mess around her face and her song dropped to a soft, sad, near-whisper. "_I feign oblivious._"

Then her hands found the spindle of ribbon she'd left there and in moments the shiny blue trimming was woven around her fingers and draped around her arms.

"_But oh, to hold you in my arms,  
__And twine you about me  
__Like this ribbon I gave you so long ago,  
__Tied round your gift for quick recovery_."  
"_I wonder if you've forgotten;_" Her voice softened.  
"_Thrown it away as nothing.  
__But it was something, I think,  
__And it meant everything_." She smiled dopily and began to spin. Around and around she turned, the skirt of her pale pink nightgown flying up around her in a swirling circle of soft cotton. She wrapped her arms about herself and great spills of blue silk hung down around her as she danced and sang.

"_And there's a softness  
__In the way that you hold my hand;  
__Our fingers interlocking,  
__In a silent promise to never disband  
__Like the rest of the world --  
__The unfortunate ones around  
__Who had nothing to hold to;  
__A loneliness so profound  
__That I imagine life without you..._"

Hermione fell back against her bed, irreparably tangled in ribbon and threatening to be swallowed by the voluminous white of her bed sheets. Chestnut hair spread out above her like a tarnished halo and the little-girl-designed nightgown artfully posed as if her collapse had been choreographed, she placed a hand against her cheek and dragged it down the line of her body until her arm was fretfully clutching at her stomach.

"_And I feel physically sick.  
__I say "It doesn't matter",  
__But the words don't seem to stick._"

Tossing and turning with the music's neurotic rhythm, Hermione finally relinquished her position and crawled to the edge of her bed. Picking up the topmost book of the substantially high-stacked pillar, she flipped idly through its pages eyes not stopping to read the inked lines.

"_Books, my companion,  
__You hid my fears so well.  
__I pretend lawfulness  
__When it's my heart's voice I can't quell._" She clutched the book to her chest.  
"_I'm strong enough in magic,  
__But not strong enough in love.  
__When you go back, I'll be alone  
__And still thinking of  
__Everything you've forgotten;  
__The only one who's hurt._"

Then she looked down at the book, its well-worn cover and musty smell denoting it as some ancient and most likely valuable text, and threw it onto the floor. The music crashed over the room in furious waves. "_No, I won't let this happen._"

The face reappeared in her mirror as she strode past it, but she shielded her eyes from it and the image disappeared. "_No, I'll just fall back and revert..._"

As the song reached its finale, Hermione flung open the portrait door and raised her hands up above her, crying out: "_To what I used to be before you came alooooooong!_"

The final note hit and the music vanished. Hermione's nightgown reverted to her red and green flannel pajamas and her luxurious curls were once again tangled, frizzy knots. Her bed sheets became gold again and the blaring of her alarm clock echoed out into the eerily silent common room. Hermione's face flamed to a brilliant scarlet as dozens of shocked eyes settled on her, standing tangled in ribbon with her arms still ridiculously held aloft.

"Now," Sirius drawled standing up from his seat in one of the maroon wing backed chairs. "_That w_as a show stopping number..."

"BLACK!"

The door slammed shut with Hermione on the other side.

Laughing, Sirius looked up at James, who'd been posed on the boys' dormitory stairs camera in hand. "I don't think she likes the festivities we planned..."

* * *

Hermione was finally coaxed out of her room, if only to put a stop to Ron's terribly awful crooning; whatever spell the Marauders had cast on the school causing him to burst out in a rowdy country song mid-sentence. Hermione actual flung open the door and violently shook the redhead cowboy-wannabe, knocking him free of the spell. 

"Put a cork in it, Ron!" She exclaimed and he flushed.

"Couldn't you have fixed his singing?" she demanded of the Marauders, hands on hips.

Remus grinned. "That would have ruined the whole thing."

Hermione pinkened as she looked at him for reasons obviously unbeknownst to the others and she sighed in relief that they hadn't heard the rest of her musical outburst earlier. "Alright," she said anxiously. "You three have had your fun, now no more singing for me."

" 'Fraid not, pigeon." Hermione punched him, but Sirius continued. "We're not in control of this. The spell picks its own singers."

"'Victims' you mean," she muttered under her breath. "I _don't_ sing."

"On the contrary!" Harry outburst. "Voice like a nightingale you've got."

Eyes narrowing, she wished for a sudden catastrophe to drop him dead on the spot. "_Die_," she hissed and pushed through them. Arms swinging at her sides, Hermione strode briskly to the portraithole.

"_Ooh, Hermione…_"

Hermione whirled around. Cheery 60'sish music was siphoning into the common room and the Gryffindors inside began looking around in confusion. When they realized what was happening they watched eagerly as Harry stepped up onto the coffee table, a leather jacket materializing over his t-shirt. "_Ooh, Hermione,_" he repeated, and the frozen brunette looked horrified. Pulling down the large black shades that hadn't been there before, Harry looked at her debonairly over the rims. "_Ooh, listen up here._"

And just like that a dozen more voices were added to Harry's baritone and a wave of magic rolled over the common room, turning it into a 70s bedecked penthouse.

"_The beats are alive, and  
__School's positively lyrical_." Harry sang. "_And everyone's singing:_"

"_IT'S HOGWARTS: THE MUSICAL!_" The common room roared.

A spotlight blared on over Ginny, who'd climbed up onto the balcony of the girls' stairs. With her shiny golden Go-Go dress and firecracker hair sweeping down over half her face she flung up a hand and took her solo.

"_Stop! And drop everything._" She pointed her finger and rolled her hips, leaning over the railing. "_The spell's a-coming for you_."

"_Eats you up, spits you out  
__And guess what you're gonna do_." Seamus jumped up onto one of the couches and flicked up the long collar of his paisley shirt.

James gave the other singers a smoldering look beneath the spotlight and strummed at the guitar hanging over his knee, matching the odd music that seemed caught between two decades.

"_You're gonna sidle on up  
__To the guy playing bass._"

"_Get all dolled up_—" Lily, dressed in a svelte lounge singer's dress, rang out in her soprano as she came down upon James' leg, propping up her elbows on her knees.

"_And pick up the pace  
_'_Cuz the music's turnin' up  
__And the mood's electrical._"

Harry picked the song back up again, the room joining in at the chorus.

"_Get on your dancin' shoes  
_'_Cuz it's Hogwarts: The Musical._"

"_The walls are shaking;  
__The volume gettin' higher._" Sirius' bass came from the chair in which he was suavely lounged.

"_Add your voice to the mix;  
__Another member in the choir,_" came Remus' near-tenor. He was sitting in front of Sirius' chair, bright blue shirt rolled up to his elbows and red tie knotted loosely and wrapped in his hand.

The portrait door was flung open and students from all the other houses began pouring in, presumably having been drawn in by the spell while walking the nearby halls.

"_Get your props._"

"_And find your pitches 'cauuuuse._"

"_There's nothing better than—_"

"—_Rocking wizards and witches_," Harry finished. A snap of his fingers started off all his back-up singers snapping as well, and he hopped off the table. Like a predator stalking his prey, Harry closed down on her snapping, but Hermione was backing out of the Tower. The dancing singers followed her en masse. The music followed too.

The high beat slowing down, Harry grinned his lopsided smile and began his own solo.

"_It's Halloween day  
__And it may seem trivial  
__But let's start singing..._"

Hermione couldn't stop herself, and she answered him in her own rich alto. "_It's Hogwarts: The Musical!_"

In a loud **POOF! **everything was restored, the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors were laughing and cheering the good fun, and the Slytherins looked disgusted and high tailed it out of the hallway. Hermione herself groaned as her friends bore down on her laughing and teasing.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

They went to breakfast only to walk in on Pansy Parkinson dancing on top of the Slytherins' table and both she and Draco, sitting on the bench in front of her, singing the horrendously terrible muggle song 'Barbie Girl'. 

"--_you can brush my hair, undress me everywhere  
Imagination, life is your creation.  
__I'm a blonde bimbo girl, in the fantasy world.  
Dress me up, make it tight, I'm your dollie,_" Pansy sang in what might have been a seductive voice, if her pitch wasn't an entire scale too high, and tossed her long hair around and around.

"_You're my doll, rock'n'roll, feel the glamour in pink,  
kiss me here, touch me there, hanky panky..._"

The Hall was in an uproar, and Hermione swore if she heard Malfoy say 'hanky panky' one more time she could die happy. Fortunately, James had appointed himself the official documenter of this momentous occasion and was taking pictures like mad, while Dean Thomas and a Ravenclaw reenacted the display on top of the Hufflepuff table.

Hermione had to admit it _was_ a good idea.

Dumbledore waited for their epic musical finales before standing up to give his morning announcements. He was chortling to himself and looked to be enjoying the Marauder's handiwork just as much as everyone else – except maybe the Slytherins.

"My, my," he began, wiping at his eyes. "I must say that this year's Halloween festivities have been quite enjoyable thus far. An ingenious use of talent. Of course, I won't delay you much longer from your meal, but I wished to remind you that the Halloween Ball—"

"—_begins at eight._" The music was light and childish in its flute harmonics and sounded like the background music to a nursery rhyme. Picking up the sides of his robes, the aging wizard broke out into an amusing jig in front of his chair.

"_The ball begins at eight,  
__Try not to be late.  
__You mustn't wait  
__To find a date  
__Or try and bait  
__One of your mates.  
__It will be great  
__That's just fate  
__The ball beings at eight._"

The students broke out into cheers and clapped loudly at their beaming Headmaster as he retook his seat after his dance. "Oh, that _was_ rather pleasant," he chuckled and the Marauders exchanged well-deserved, if idiotic-looking, high fives.

"You guys came through alright," Hermione told them, digging into her eggs.

Sirius gave an inane cackle and rubbed his hands together. "Wait til you see what happens at the dance."

Hermione dropped her fork and looked at him with growing horror. "What...did you..._do_!"

"No we will _not_ ruin the surprise!" James exclaimed haughtily, sitting down beside them and putting his camera on the table in front of him. "And quite frankly, Hermione, it's very rude of you to even ask."

Groaning, she looked down the table and pointed an accusing finger at a surprised Lily. "This is your fault."

"_Excuse_ me?" Lily choked out.

"You need to control your men," Hermione warned, now shaking an egg-y fork at her.

"My men?" the redhead snorted.

"Yes," Hermione declared definitively. Drawing a line with her arm on one side of James, seated beside her, she motioned down to the other end of Remus. "You are responsible for them—" she made an air circle around Harry and Ron. "and these are mine."

Lily pouted. "How come I get three and you only have two?"

"Because _I_ didn't keep going back to the store for more."

"I'll give you Remus for Harry," Lily propositioned.

Hermione gaped at her and looked as offended as she possibly could. "No you can NOT take Harry! You picked 'em, you deal with 'em."

"Drats."

"Boy do I feel loved," James said conversationally. "Pass the butter, Padfoot?"

"Right, here ya go." Sirius handed over the butter bowl and dragged some jam over for himself. "Makes you wanna go through yourself in a lake, eh?"

"What? Butter?" Hermione snickered.

Sirius gave her an odd look. "_No_..." he said as if she'd lost her mind. "The jam, pigeon."

"Oh," she said, trying to look serious. "I had no idea you were so easily offended by breakfast condiments."

"Yes, well, traumatic experience and all that..."

* * *

After a Potions class, which was rarely anything better than mind-numbing-nails-on-a-chalkboard torture, wherein the surly Professor Snape was witnessed and widely photographed warbling the lyrics to a Weird Sisters' rock ballad (and it might have been air guitar he was doing, or perhaps he was just flailing his arms about), and some boys from all the houses doing an a cappella number with the suits of armor, the Golden Trio was coming out of their own group number as they left the Ancient Runes classroom. 

"_It's been seven long years  
__Since we met on the train,_" They sang together to a oldish pop beat, dancing down the hall with their arms linked.

"_You were just a pair of boys_ –" Hermione shot out.

Ron and Harry answered with: "_And we thought you were insane._"

Alto, baritone and bass.

"_But we were just kids  
__At this big bad school  
__There was magic everywhere,  
__And Potions to brew.  
__Wasn't long before we got together;"_

"_Paranormal gravitation,_" Hermione soloed with a coquettish wink on her close-up.

"_They called us The Golden Trio –  
__We were earth, sky, and sun._"

Hermione's hands on Harry's wrist stopped the procession. Pulling him around in a circle, she hummed along with the magical music before Harry pulled her to him and they took each other's hands in a slow waltz. Spinning around and about the hallway, clearing out an open circle in the mass of watching students that had forgotten entirely about their next class, Hermione's rich alto sang:

"_Harry with your jade eyes  
__You make my soul complete  
__In knowing me best  
__No one else can compete._"

The spotlight that had fallen on them morphed to include only Harry, and Hermione – like a dramatic pantomime – laid her head down and fell completely silent in the cloaking shadows that had descended upon her. They continued to dance, but the light had diverged to encompass Ron as well.

"_Ron you're my mate  
__And we've become like brothers  
__If we'd never met  
__My life would be much emptier._"

Hermione spun out of Harry's arms like cracking a whip, but Ron was there to catch her and dip her low, gradually lifting her back up onto her feet and dancing a faster-paced two-step while he serenaded her.

"_You're beautiful, Hermione  
__Always and forever, I'm proud  
__Of your sacrificing heart  
__Wish I could say it out loud._" She was looked up at him with a bright shining face and a megawatt smile – a piece of Hermione they hadn't seen enough of lately.

"_Oh, Ron – you're a part of me too,_" she sang.  
"_I feel stronger by your side.  
__If Harry's soul, then you're my blood;  
__There's a comfort only you provide._"  
"_Hermione, you're our heart,_" Harry interrupted their moment, walking towards her; baritone dropping to a husky tone.

"_You're courageous and strong  
__And you hold us all together.  
__Without a doubt this is where you belong._"

Harry locked his fingers with Hermione and they shared a look before Ron clapped a hand down on the other boy's shoulder.

"_Harry, you're always the hero  
__But I don't mind side-kicking  
__If it means we'll be friends  
_'_Til the end of everything._"

"_Oh, the end of everything..._" The three teenagers looked at one another and broke out in identical grins. Linking their arms, they backed up together for a running start and moved down the hall in a parody of the Wizard of Oz cast going down the yellow-brick road.

"_We'll be friends forever  
__Nothing's gonna tear us apart  
__Sun, earth and sky—  
__This Trio was destined from the start.  
__Our fates are intertwined  
__(And our harmony is perfect)  
__If Voldemort could see us now  
__He'd show a little more respect  
_'_Cuz we're unstoppable together_!"

"_Man, Beast, and Magic," _– each calling out their respective names.  
"_A Triumverate of Power  
__Watch us spout another limerick!_"

They'd reached the Grand Staircase and the magical structures, which had never before obeyed anyone other than their own fleeting wishes, snapped to attention and spiraled straight down to the bottom of the castle. On hopped Harry. Then Ron. Then Hermione.

The music peaked as the three of them went whizzing down the banister, without any thought towards saving their necks or just how many points they could lose for such recklessness. As their velocity increased and the sharpness of the curves became greater, the safeguards of the musical spell kept them from falling off and hurting themselves mid-number.

By the time they were nearing the ground floor their hair was whipping around their faces, ties flapping around their chins, and robes billowing out behind them. The students on their way to outdoor classes, stopped in amaze to watch and the Trio gave them their final stanza.

"_At the end of everything  
__We'll all still be together  
__Coming out of war alive  
__You can count on us being friends forever!_"

Their "grand finale" was somewhat dampened however, when Harry was launched off the banister flat onto his face, only to be landed on top of by Ron and then Hermione. Groaning and with Hermione mumbling apologies, they rolled off one another and found themselves back up on the seventh floor looking up at the Fat Lady.

"What the—!"

"Hey! As long as I don't have to climb back up all those stairs the spell can do whatever the hell it wants to us," Ron cut in, sitting up to rub his back which had apparently had a slight disagreement with Hermione's knee. Meaning to shoot a self-righteous glare at the owner of said "aggressive joint", Ron's face morphed into confusion at the odd look on his friend's face.

She was looking longingly up at the portrait of the Fat Lady, her shoulders sort of jerking forward as if something was trying to pull her. "_Guys_..." she growled. "I don't think I'm done singing just yet."

Cackling gleefully together, the boys rubbed their hands together. "Oh goodie," Harry said, and just then the portrait door was swung open.

The music was picking up, but the looks on the faces of Hermione, sprawled across the floor, and Remus, frozen in the doorway, were identical in their horrification.

"Oh _no_," they said simultaneously.

"Uh..." Ron looked between them. "If this is gonna get personal I suggest you two take it out of the hallway."

Hermione didn't need telling twice, and she picked up her heels and sped past Remus and into the hallway – her still entangled, and much clumsier companions following a short moment after. Hermione had wedged herself into one of the uncomfortable, straight-backed wing chairs, her fingers clutching painfully to the armrests and her heels digging into the small space between the chair's bottom and the floor. She looked as though she were having a fit.

"Hey everybody!" Harry yelled over the head of an equally ashen-faced Remus. "They're handing out free chocolate frogs down by the lake!"

In a rush and stampede, those that had been milling about the common room abandoned their schoolwork, and books, and even dropped their pack of Exploding Snap cards resulting in a resonating bang and a significant patch of scorched carpet.

Ron was crouched down by Hermione in concern when Harry finished assessing the damage. "Are you holding your breath?"

A quickly blue-turning Head Girl shook her head in denial.

"You're a big girl now – answer with your words not with your head," the redhead insisted.

Another shake of her bushy head and a garbled string of sounds that might have been words if her mouth had been allowed to properly form the words.

"If you keep trying to fight the spell like that, you might well just explode!" Ron told her dramatically, already noting that she was running out of stored oxygen. Then Harry got tired of it all and poked her smartly in the side.

"_Not happy 'til the sadness comes  
To keep me company  
Oh, but what becomes of fools who love like me?_" Hermione belted out before she could stop herself, and her outburst broke through to the struggling Remus.

"_Another night, another dream, but always you  
It's like a vision of love that seems to be true,_" he sang.

Her music was slow and melancholy, but his was fast and adrenaline filled – mixed together the two melodies harmonized and found an unprecedented but alluring balance. With the barest scrap of self-control remaining, Hermione was yanked to her feet and removed of her school uniform. Dressed from shoulder to floor in a sleek, navy, evening dress and more diamond jewelry than she could ever afford, Hermione reacted helplessly along with the lyrics – unable to stop the spell from baring her private thoughts.

"_Who's gonna dry my tears  
When I'm crying?  
Who's gonna hold my hand  
When I'm dying?_" Here she buried her face in her gloved hands.

"_Who's gonna set me right when  
Everything is wrong..._"

She lifted her head from her palms, loose tendrils falling from her chiffon, and lowered them, though one still hovered near her chin that was close to trembling. Pressing a hand to her heart, Hermione turned to look at Remus – impeccably dressed in a silk crimson shirt and black trousers.

"_Who's gonna love me  
When you're gone?_"

Remus took a step towards her, but as always stopped just short. They stood facing one another, music rising and falling, close enough to touch, but neither moving any distance at all that would shrink the gap between them. The two of them just stood there and sang, because they couldn't stop it from happening.

"_Just another night, another vision of love  
You feel joy, you feel pain, 'cause nothing will be the same  
Just another night, it's all that it takes to understand  
The difference between lovers and fakes..._" Both of them were pink in the cheeks, because it was one thing to make a confession – it was quite a different thing to do it with an audience and with some club-mix waltz dictating your every word.

"_I talk, talk, I talk to you  
In the night, in your dreams of love so true._" Remus reached out with a shaking hand to touch her face, and when the rough pads of his fingers made contact with the smooth plane of her cheek the entire tension between them broke down and crumbled away. And for Hermione it was as if the entire world was spinning away around them.

"_In the night, in my dreams, I'm in love with you  
'Cause you talk to me like lovers do  
Just another night, another dream, another vision of love  
With me, I'm here to set you free_

_Oh we do all the things that only lovers do  
Vision of love that seems to be true_."

Harry and Ron watched this exchange with something akin to amaze on both of their faces. They watched spellbound, as their friends fought the feeling that was inside them, all the while the Marauders' spell pulling the words from their lips far more easily than any veritaserum.

Ten yards away from them stood the last three of their group – rooted to the floorboards of the boys' stairs. James and Lily were both looking up at Sirius, but the boy wasn't giving much of a show – only able to gape at the emotion-ridden scene going on below them.

"Sirius...Hermione would never have admitted any of this if it hadn't been forced out of her," Lily told him gently. "She's not the kind of person who'd intentionally hurt you."

Sirius just shook his head and let it fall against his chest, still in too much of a shock to be able to form a coherent word.

"I figured a few things out about Hermione," James said firmly, brushing his rugged locks out of his eyes. "She would never have said anything until we were finally sent back home – and she's probably denying it all anyway."

"She didn't even give me a chance..." Sirius monotoned. His hands were holding the railing with knuckle-popping force.

Ever the mother-figure, Lily touched his arm lightly in hopes of comforting him. "Perhaps the two of you weren't meant to be."

"No one knows that for sure," he insisted, looking at her fiercely.

"Padfoot!" Now James was serious, the forceful edge in his tone that had made him the unquestionable leader of the Marauders. "There will never be the chance for the two of them if you don't give her permission to try...she thinks that to be with Remus is betraying you."

"But—"

"_Rise above_, Pads," Jame cut off, getting irritated. He gestured down to where Hermione and Remus were standing, he serenading her while his fingers held her chin fondly. "Damn if they'll admit it, but there's something between them! Something, I think, that was there before we were even brought here."

Quietly, Sirius answered. "That's not fair..."

"No," Lily admitted readily. "But it may be fate."

"_If you wanna leave  
I won't beg you to stay  
And if you gotta go darling  
Maybe it's better that way._" Folding his arms over the twisted banister, he bent down and situated his jaw in the crook of his elbow. Dark blue eyes watching the scene below, as Harry and Ron whirled around startled, and Hermione and Remus twitched slightly in his direction as though they'd wanted to 'whirl around' as well but the spell hadn't let them.

That was okay.

"_I'm gonna be strong  
I'm gonna do fine  
Don't worry about this heart of mine  
Just walk out that door  
Yea see if I care  
Go on and go now but..._" He stared at the back of Hermione's curly head and sighed.

"_Don't turn around  
Cause you're gonna see my heart breaking  
Don't turn around  
Just walk away  
It's tearing me apart  
That you're leaving  
I'm letting you go  
But I won't let you know._"

Lily was smiling softly, but he couldn't tell if it was meant for him or not. He looked to James and his friend nodded once; he was doing the right thing.

"_I know I'll survive  
Sure I'll make it through  
And I'll even learn to live without you._"

Hermione, unable to turn and face the lamenting Sirius, and equally incapable of hyperventilating and passing out, was forced to look nowhere else but into those grey eyes she thought were more familiar than her own. This trick of the Marauders was no longer funny. It was intrusive and making for a hell of a more difficult ball than she'd planned on having. But still, there was something in Remus' voice...

"_In the night, in my dreams, I'm in love with you  
'Cause you talk to me like lovers do  
I feel joy, I feel pain, 'cause it's still the same."_ His thumb rubbed against her cheek and a small piece of her heart gave a girlish squeal.

_  
_Remus' breath was hot on her cheek when he whispered; "_When the night is gone I'll be alone._"

"_I wish I could scream out loud  
That I love you  
I wish I could say to you  
Don't go_

_But I won't let you know,_" Sirius's voice drifted over them as he retreated back into the dorms, and then all that was left was Hermione's ending.

"_Sure as winter goes and comes around again  
I will be my own undoing in the end_," she wrapped an arm around her waist.  
"_I'll find the answers I've been searching for  
In your goodbye kiss..._"

Her hand reached up to touch his – just a soft press against the back of his palm, the silk glove sliding 'cross the skin – and then she stepped away, her beautiful dress already melting back into the drab grays of her uniform. Hugging both arms now around her stomach, she lowered her gaze from startled grey eyes as her hair sprung free from its twist and obscured her face with curls.

"'_Cause I don't deserve you and you don't deserve this..._"

As the last chord died, Hermione walked into her room and shut the door.

* * *

Song notes: 

Barbie Girl by Aqua  
When You're Gone by Richard Marx  
Another Night by Real McCoy  
Don't Turn Around by Ace of Base

All other songs used within were created by me! Shazam!

* * *

Yay! Super sleuths! You got it! Just needed a few clues. Some of you were close, but congrats to **moonyNZ**, **Pet Peeves**, **Shading in Grey**, **Laura**, **Windborn**, and **ducks-rule-world**. The ribbon was tied around the Wolfsbane potions Hermione had planned on giving Remus that were found in the white box. 

This time, let's have you super sleuths look to the future – "Just was _does_ that crazy Katzy have planned for the Halloween ball?"


	34. XXXIII Hogwarts Dance Fever

**Completed: **4/19/2005 8:00 PM  
**Posted: **4/19/2005 9:30 PM

A/N: Sorry about last chapter guys, didn't mean to confuse you by talking in the third person. _I'm_ Katzy, just fyi.

Next Chapter: Expect it to be WAY long. And since my novel _officially_ is boring me to death, the chapter might be finished in a week. Or perhaps I'll get my butt back in gear and catch up the eleventy billion words I'm behind already. Who knows.

Dastardly Plug: 1) If you haven't checked out the story I'm hosting, _Destiny's Embers_, do it NOW! 2) New, way-totally original story is about to be brought to an near you. It's my newest obsession (which I forced onto Meg in _DE_): Hermiriames Hermione x Sirius x James. Even if that doesn't float your boat, read it the fuck anyways 'cuz I guarantee her time traveling reasons/application have never been used before.

A/N2: Did someone ask for multiple Remus x Hermione scenes? 'Cuz they're here.

NOTE (4/28/2005) – Due to persnicketyness by the song 'Fever' and its lyrics were removed from the chapter. A"s--" will denote where the lyrics once were. I think the story lost a good piece of it to this, but it can't be helped.

* * *

Hermione ran from the other side of the door as fast as she could. She didn't want to hear what they had to say_ or_ sing; didn't want to feel that head-splitting pain wrenching through her chest again. Not anymore. She stumbled into the common door, fumbling in her hurry to get it open, only to finally fling it open and run blindly into the arms of Draco Malfoy. 

"Oh, look..." he drawled. Fingers convulsed around her upper-arms with crushing force. "It's my _date_..."

"Let go, Malfoy," she growled through her teeth.

He sneered. "Or you'll call Potter? Looks to me like you wanted out of your 'friends' company pretty bad."

Seeing as how there was a _very_ good possibility that either or both of them might suddenly just burst into song, Hermione _really_ wanted to be somewhere else. "Isn't that what drives every other girl into your arms?" she scoffed. "Desperation?"

"Go ahead Granger..." his voice slithered silkily into her ear and just its tone made her feel violated. "I know you want to. Let's see this 'power' of yours..."

Hermione stiffened – a total locking up of her body – and Malfoy laughed maliciously. "It could be our little secret," he coaxed. "It won't even make the papers this time."

She looked defiantly up into his face, though internally she was cursing her own short height, and flipped the switch in her head that wiped clean all the emotions from her expression. Malfoy sensed the sudden change in her, but the only sign of his sudden alertness was the tightening on her arms and the all but imperceptible narrowing of his ice blue eyes.

"Back. Off." She hissed out.

"And what if I don't?" His challenge was darkly serious now, and it frightened Hermione how badly he wanted her to use her magic. But she wasn't about to give him that – she just wanted to get away.

"I'll _scream_," she swore vehemently. She turned up her nose at him and said in as superior a voice as she could manage, "Then who'll be the one in trouble?"

He might have had a threat coming, but they were both interrupted from their deadly staring match by a hooting owl that came swooping in through the window and began flapping madly around Hermione's head – wings catching in her frizzied curls. Malfoy snarled and shoved her back as he let go of her arms and she tripped backwards into the wall as a result of it, clutching her letter in her hands.

"Halloween's not over yet, Granger," he warned before stalking out of the common room.

When the door at last clicked shut behind him, Hermione let out a long, shuddering breath and was glad for the wall's cool weight at her back serving to sooth her nerves. She wasn't sure what Malfoy was after – who was? – but without a doubt it would not bode well for her. She picked at the edge of the unsealed parchment as her thoughts played leap-frog around her mind, and then finally settled on thinking about Malfoy's behavior later.

The letter, her chosen topic of thought distraction, proved wholly unhelpful. The letter was totally blank frontways and back. She continued to stare at it in confusion until she noticed a spell contained in the parchment had levitated her locket up from underneath her blouse and into the open air. Eyes crossing slightly in the effort to look down at it so close, she watched it turn onto its belly and reflect the inscription up at her.

The wrenching feeling was back in her heart, and Hermione groaned, cupping the golden locket with her fingers. If it was possible, she only felt worse. Why did Remus have to be so..._perfect_.

Sighing heavily, she tucked the necklace carefully back under the collar of her uniform and headed for the hallway. Her encounter with Malfoy had ironically served a useful purpose, as in his parting line he'd reminded her that her potion still remained to be picked up from the Room of Requirements.

And at least neither of them had started singing.

* * *

Hermione returned twenty minutes later with the entire cauldron shrunken down into a single flask and tightly stoppered. She carried it through her bedroom with slow deliberateness and a protective hold on the top and bottom of the glass, though asll these precautions and minutiae seemed a bit excessive when the liquid in the flask looked to be nothing more "magical" than ordinary tap water. 

She had planned on returning as quietly as possible, but while she was preoccupied with the potion, the heavy door joining her room to the Heads' common room drifted closed on its own with a noticeable **bang!** Hermione winced.

Setting the flask on her work table, she pulled out the white cube from its floorboards beneath her bed and set it down near the middle of the room. A tap opened the top side like a lid and she scrounged around inside with three fingers until she pulled a bookshelf effortlessly out with a yank. It hovered there, above the cube, for her to pull the books she needed and then give it the tap that would send it back inside. She pulled a few more things out in the same fashion before closing the lid and tucking it into a nook on her workbench.

She'd barely set down to work when there was a knock on her door. She contemplated for half a second over not answering, but the decision was made for her.

"Hermione – it's me."

Now _that_ was not fair – she no reason to be upset with Harry. Most importantly, she couldn't _not_ let him in, simply for the reason that it was Harry. Her Harry.

Making sure the burner under the flask wasn't too hot, she pushed back her chair and walked to the door. A deep breath and she was ready to open the door.

Harry gave her a stern look when she did and promptly shoved a resisting Remus straight into her, knocking them both back into the room.

"You two are going to work this out, and you can't come out until you do," he declared firmly, then slammed the door. "And don't even think of trying to escape," he yelled through it. "Lily's at the other door!"

A sheepish Lily said "Sorry guys" from the other end of the room.

Hermione threw out a hand and was cruelly avenged as the door bowed out of its frame and whapped Harry on the nose, who cried out in pain. She let the wood bounce back to its original shape and looked up at Remus kneeling over her. They both flushed and he quickly crawled off and stood up offering her a hand. Hermione got up on her own, readjusting her reading glasses that had gotten skewed in the sudden attack.

"I have work to do," she muttered pink-faced, and reseated herself primly in her chair.

Remus hovered uncertainly in the corner of her vision, but not particularly in her way, and the fact that he wasn't annoying _annoyed_ her. The thermometer stuck through the stopper was filling with two many numbers and she forcefully turned the gas crank to lower the burner's flame. She looked up the needed page in one of her books and seeing as it was written in Italian Hermione wasn't too worried about him trying to read over her shoulder. As per the book's instructions, she prepared an ice bath for the potion to go into when it was done slowly boiling.

When Remus pulled up a chair beside her, unobtrusively reading her Transfiguration textbook, Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. "You can leave you know," she said, trying to look occupied.

"That's alright," he said quietly. Hermione wouldn't meet his eyes.

"We're not going to talk," she said a bit smartish-ly. Her anxiety was rising each moment they were alone together. One more ditty between them and she wouldn't have any secrets left.

"That's your choice," he answered, calmly looking back down at his reading.

Hermione stopped mid-word in the notes she'd been copying and threw down her quill and tore off her glasses. "Can you just stop being perfect and understanding for _one minute_!" She exclaimed hotly.

Remus closed the book and shook his head. "I don't want to fight with you." The sincerity in his voice brought back that wrenching feeling. Her defense mechanism involved a lot of yelling and hand gestures.

"Well, maybe I _do_ want to fight!" She exclaimed childishly and totally unfairly.

The only crime Remus had committed was being perfect. 'Perfect for her' she was forced to admit. Especially during this time when Hermione was being forced to do things she would never burden her friends by knowing, he didn't ask any questions. He didn't argue or yell at her, act offended by her silence, or press where he wasn't wanted. She had told herself night after night that nothing could happen with any of them; Remus had never confronted her with his feelings until a no-longer-amusing musical spell had forced it out of him. That made him perfect too. He was kind and quick-witted, honest and intelligent. Not only could he stand being in the library for more than five minutes, he _enjoyed_ going there. He _liked_ reading.

"You think I'm perfect?" He asked with a bit of a smile.

"That's not the point," she huffed. But she'd blushed pink all the way up to the tips of her ears, doing the Weasley family proud.

"Hermione...I didn't mean to tell you like that," he insisted apologetically.

"Oh yeah, note to self: I'm killing all of you for this stupid spell!"

She slammed her book down on the table and the entire thing rattled her potion bottle angrily. Taking into consideration the amount of time she'd invested in said potion, she took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. "Look, Remus...I enjoy being with you and I value your friendship, but that's it," she insisted.

"No..." He reached out for her and she let him, holding her breath as he gently pulled the chain out from beneath her uniform's collar. He opened the locket and the projection of the picture inside appeared between them. "We were better than 'just friends'," he said gently. "And that was before _I'd_ even gotten here..."

Hermione's throat closed up as she watched the movie, completely ensnared. She hadn't even realized how often she'd watched this photo play itself over and over again and wonder what had happened to that happy life she'd led only so short a time ago. Remus _had_ been more than just a friend, and they had in fact been close in a way that most people wouldn't have been able to understand given their ages and societal differences. But, oh, they'd been so much more alike than that. Their losses had been great and they had found solace in each others' kindred spirits. His birthday party had probably been the only time they'd both been truly happy since Sirius' death.

The werewolf's death had hit her harder than she remembered thinking it would. With Harry on one side, Ron on the other, and Ginny owling her every day from home she still had felt completely and irreparably alone. Sometimes, when the sorrow seemed greatest, she would sneak down into the parlor where they'd always shared tea and cry into his favorite chair. She'd often asked herself if this was how he had felt when he became the last Marauder; when his closest friends had all passed on and left him behind to deal with the world alone. The thought that he'd probably believed himself the least deserving of such a long life only made her cry harder into the soaked corduroy of the chair.

She'd made herself be the one to pack his meager belongings away, yelling outright when someone suggested they be given away. They'd never been much, but whatever he'd managed to keep with him had been things of importance, that _meant_ something. They were _his _things.

If he wasn't able to keep them safe any longer, than she would be the one to do it because she couldn't bear to see that picture of Sirius he'd kept on his nightstand thrown in the trash or stripped of its frame, see the watch Lily had given him for his fourteenth birthday – too long broken to be of any use – pawned away. So she packed up everything, sealed each item tightly inside their boxes, and placed them safely inside the closet of her bedroom at Grimmauld. When she had finished the emotionally-devastating process, she remembered falling to her knees in front of the closet that held everything that _was Remus_ and sobbing into her hands. She'd cried hoping that he'd found James and Lily, Sirius, and even poor misguided Peter. But still knowing they were all happy and whole again...it didn't make _her_ hurt any less.

She restrained herself from reaching up to touch all of their laughing faces, but the hole that was perhaps forever in her heart burned and made itself known again even as the tears burned down her cheeks.

_That had been her last perfect moment._

"Oh, please don't cry Hermione. I didn't mean to make you sad," Remus begged, taking her face in his hands and wiping softly at the saline tracks. "I only want you to be happy..."

The tears flowed harder at this, but she didn't make any noise to accompany those long withheld tears. Her throat felt too tight to speak through, but she made the attempt – lips sticking together as she opened her mouth to form the words. "You _do _make me happy..." Her voice rasped. "I-I don't want you to leave again..."

Remus knew she was referring to the death of his future self, but didn't take offense by it. She was blinking her eyes rapidly beneath his fingertips trying to staunch the flood of crystal droplets rolling from her lashes. "I won't leave if you don't make me, Hermione."

She shuddered under his hands and pulled away. "I have to," she choked, clearing her throat to try and dispel its tight hoarseness.

"We're good friends, Hermione, but I can do better than that." Remus' voice was evenly serious.

"This isn't some spell you're trying to perfect in Charms," said Hermione. "You can keep trying, but this is a spell that doesn't want to be cast. Maybe it just wants you to give up and go and try some other one."

She valiantly tried to focus on her work, quill clenched near the breaking point in her hand, but her face was tilted back into looking at warm blue-gray eyes. "Maybe the spell has just been waiting for a wizard in shining robes to come and try hard enough to cast it, but just doesn't know it yet. Maybe the spell's just being silly..." Remus offered.

"Maybe the wizard is too stubborn for his own good," she mumbled back half-heartedly, looking down.

Remus waited for her to bravely lift her eyes back up, and she saw the subtle sadness that lined the smooth planes of his face even before he began to speak words that hit her more forcefully than she'd imagined. "I meant what I said...and if you want to go back to the way things were then that's what we'll do," he said quietly, looking at her caringly through sandy bangs.

Heart wrench after heart wrench.

"But..."

Hermione bit back her breath.

"Please let me keep holding your hand?"

It was the only thing he'd ever asked of her – something so simple and so utterly Remus that she nearly began to cry again. Peering fixatedly into her watery eyes, he cautiously found the hand lying limply across her lap and inched his fingers beneath it. Hermione lifted it slowly – just enough for his hand to slip beneath hers – and closed her eyes as warm fingers twined with her own. Her heartbeat quickened waiting for her to breathe and she tentatively squeezed Remus' hand.

He didn't hesitate to squeeze back.

A long breath escaped her lips; longer than it took her to open her eyes again. Her head tipped unconsciously upwards and she had a thought that Remus hadn't been so close where she could smell the earthy smell that was the wolf inside him a moment ago.

The timer she'd set earlier went off with a high-pitched muggle ding and her eyes slid to the side to glance at the large clock hanging on her wall. It was six o'clock. Remus chuckled softly and surprised her by leaning forward as she'd imagined him doing a second ago and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"You have to get ready for the ball..." he told her.

She nodded distantly. "Lily and Gin will be waiting for me," she murmured.

Remus smiled and wiped away the last bead of moisture that had caught in her eyelashes then stood up. "Well let's get you up there then."

He waited for her to move the potion to the ice bath with one hand and then grab her dress box off the bed before leading her across the room. Each step, Hermione wanted to drag her feet – however ill-mannered it was – wishing to stop that door from getting any closer. Reach it they did, however, and wordlessly they pulled back their hands, fingertips lingering close together before breaking all contact completely.

"Save me a dance..." he whispered hopefully.

"Always."

Like a gentleman he opened the door for her and she thanked him, stepping out into the common room. Harry, who'd been sitting with his back to the wall next to the door, quickly scrambled to his feet looking a bit wary as if she'd try and hex him any moment. Ron looked up from the couch where he was picking up a game of Wizards Chess, and Sirius was beside him going over the Quidditch play book until he looked up at them too.

"It was Ron's idea!" Harry blurted out, immediately shielding his face with his arms as if he'd anticipated a blow.

"You're all too dramatic," she addressed the room. "Now, I have to go get ready or Gin will do something drastic."

With a sweep of her black school robes, the young witch was hurrying up the girls' stairs, white dressbox tucked under her arm. The odd sounds they caught in their range of hearing were identified as Ginny's annoyed yelling when the door to the 6th year dorm opened above them and Hermione hurried inside.

* * *

Nearly two hours and a great deal of painful hair-styling later, Hermione was following Ginny downstairs with Lily behind her. Together they made a nice line of blue, gold, and red, up the girls' stairs. There was a bright flash before Hermione even made it off the stairs and she was blinking back stars as James' camera spit out the picture. 

"Everyone's going to be so flipping jealous of our women," he said proudly, handing off the picture to Harry who began implementing the absolutely necessary process of blowing impatiently and shaking wildly the still-developing picture.

"And look at Little Red," Sirius cajoled throwing an arm over a boldly beautiful Ginny's bare shoulders. "She's all growed up and looking like James' Red."

"A bloody morphing butterfly she is," James agreed with a sage nod, craning his neck to kiss Lily's temple.

"Everyone wait right here," Hermione instructed still blinking like she had a spasmodic twitch as she tried to get read of the odd light patterns still bobbing in front of her eyes from the camera flash. "I have to get my gloves."

Lily already had her black ones pulled on up to her elbows and Ginny had opted for black as well, but Hermione had left hers in her bureau drawer. She slipped into her bedroom after a quickly whispered password and standing with her back pressed to the closed door, she stared at the potion waiting for her.

When Hermione reappeared a few moments later, it was with simple white satin gloves up her forearms and a smile on her face. "Let's make sure everyone's here."

The majority of the assembled group rolled their eyes, but cooperatively stood still as she went down the line touching their shoulders and counting them all off. When she got to seven and Harry, she groaned and tutted motherly at him. "Didn't I show you how to do this just a few days ago?" She sighed in exasperation and began redoing the bowtie that looked as though he'd fed it to a hungry hippogriff.

"Thanks mum," said Harry cheekily.

Ron snickered and she sent them both irate looks. "Well kids, you go and have fun. I'll meet you down there."

"Going off to face the big bad dragon? I sympathize," Ginny said.

"If he tries anything..." Harry started threateningly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I have your permission to 'beat the bloody pulp out of him'? Thanks for that," she snorted derisively. "If you hadn't told me I might have just let him do whatever he pleased..."

Remus coughed into his hand, but the others weren't as discreet in their laughter, guffawing outright at the glaring Harry as Hermione made sympathetic faces at the butt of the joke.

"Damnit Granger, HURRY UP!"

Growling in annoyance, Hermione picked up her gold skirts and jogged for her room in thankfully low heels. "HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET INTO MY ROOM?" She yelled back, leaving the others to shake their heads.

"YOU LEFT THE DAMN DOOR OPEN!"

"YOU PONCE! GET _OUT_!"

The door slammed shut over much more muffled yelling, and with no sign of it ending soon James shrugged and lead the way out into the hall to join the growing throng of muggle-dressed students filtering down to the Great Hall; a sea of black and white with smatterings of bright color from the witches.

* * *

Given the state they'd left them in, the septet was shocked, as was the school, when the Head Boy and Girl came down the grand staircase, her arm resting over his and bright smiles on their faces. The crowd parted with no difficulty whatsoever to make way for the Heads to ceremonially open the large doors. They both pushed at the center and the two slabs of wood swung open revealing the completely redesigned Hall. 

As the theme was a New York night club, the walls were painted dark, the floor polished wood and the magically weather-oriented ceiling had been convinced to turn solid for once and from the rafters hung great huge spotlights and strobes and spheres that slashed great whirling streaks of color across the room. On one wall was a bar at which Rosmerta had taken up a post, closing the Three Broomsticks early to come and help out, and on the dais which hitherto had supported the teacher's table now served as the set-up platform for a plethora of magically animated instruments. Loud House music was blaring throughout the spacious hall.

As soon as Hermione and Draco stepped across the threshold however, the music died out and the scene began to change. White marble covered the walls and great stone pillars built themselves up out of the corners. The floors turned back to stone and the lights overhead all dimmed save for one blaring white spotlight fixated on the pair. A slender golden tiara appeared in the curls Ginny had piled atop Hermione's head and a thicker crown materialized on Draco's head.

Moving to the room's center – both all smiles – Draco bowed gallantly, she curtsied, and he took her hand as a flowing waltz began emanating from the string section of the band. Hands, smiles, and magical headpieces firmly in place the two started their inaugural dance, waltzing across the palace ballroom.

All eyes were on them; students and staff alike. Hermione looked as though there wasn't any place she'd rather be as Draco spun her around and around again, and he was smiling at her in a way that made it look as though they felt no one but they were in the room. It was amazing and absolutely frightening all in one.

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy did **not** get along. Ever.

But there they were...just..._waltzing away_...

When the song ended to much applause from the waiting audience, Hermione and Draco curtsied and bowed, respectively, and lead each other off the main section of the dance floor and out of the spotlight with great big smiles and waves, like something out of a Miss America pageant. As soon as they were in the shadows however, the both of them flung away from the other as if they carried some disgustingly contagious disease and quickly moved as _far_ away from one other as possible, each seeking out their own personal groups.

A new rousing House beat started up that made the restored wooden floors thrum and the walls shake as the lights exploded back across them again. Hermione reached up tentatively and found that her tiara had disappeared from whence it had come. Perhaps it was for the best – no need to match Malfoy all night.

She found her fellow Gryffindors hovering near the bar so Seamus and Ron could flirt up Madame Rosmerta and was promptly received by gratuitous applause. Rubbing at her cheek, she opened and shut her mouth a few times before wailing that she'd "broken her jaw" smiling like that.

"That was pretty 'freaky deaky'," James said bluntly. "With the spinning and the smiling and such..."

"You noticed that too, huh?" she replied, dryly and had to duck to avoid a good-natured swing. "Nice job on the place, though," she laughed.

James puffed out his chest, despite Lily's reprimanding swat to his stomach, and boasted, "I take all the credit."

"As if! Keep your pride tucked, Potter," Sirius scoffed, stepping in on the conversation. He winked roguishly at Hermione and she was immensely relieved inside that he was at least acting like his normal self. "Can't animate inanimates to save his life," he stage-whispered conspiratorially to Hermione. She laughed behind her hand and James looked affronted.

"Hey! A lot of people can't, all right?" He defended.

"Aww, Jamsie-bear," Lily cooed – taking a piece of the action herself. "You don't have to be ashamed about your widdle problem."

"I assure you there is nothing bloody '_little'_ about me," he proclaimed, if a bit shrilly. His date promptly boxed him on the ear and clapped a gloved hand over his mouth as he cried out in pain.

"James Francis Potter!" She reprimanded.

Hermione bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. 'Francis!' she mouthed to Sirius, who snorted with restrained laughter.

"There are impressionable youth here," she concluded.

"Aw, come on Lils," he complained through her fingers. "Sirius has heard it before."

"HEY!"

"All three of you get on the dance floor now, before you hurt yourselves," Hermione laughed, shoving the lot of them into the crowd only to be promptly shoved forward herself by another set of hands.

"You really ought to take your own advice more often, 'Mione."

Hermione whirled around into Ron's broad chest and rubbed ruefully at her banged nose. "Ow, Ron!" She was choosing to blame him for her impromptu whirling causing her a knocked-into face. "What's with the shoving?"

"Didn't 'spect that the shover would become the shovee, didja?" He teased. "Constant vigilance!"

"I am _not_ going to dance with you if you keep up those Mad-Eye impressions." She sniffed and lifted her nose – which she swore was now lopsided – haughtily into the air.

"Time to dance," he said as the songs switched. "And I promise no more impressions."

The both of them walking to a more open space, they watched and waited as the room switched to fit the new song. The walls bleached to a bright, sunny Spanish yellow and the ceiling lit up like a summer day. The instruments blared out a fast paced beat and the pulsing mob of students began dancing wildly.

Ron grabbed her hips and they began a slightly altered cha-cha dance, expertly weaving in and out of other pairings.

He gave her a suspicious look. "How do you know this dance – you didn't come to the school lesson? A _mandatory_ one I might add."

"I was with Dumbledore," she answered flippantly. "Besides, I learned how to ballroom dance when I was six."

The lanky boy raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."

"_They_ did an impressive job, didn't they," Hermione pointed out, looking out over his shoulder at everything. "Sorry I didn't need your help after all."

"Dun worry 'bout it. You make a lovely girl by the way..."

Hermione looked down at her dress, glittering with beads across her chest and waist, lacing up the sides, and trailing across the floor, before it began to change to fit the song. She supposed she did look rather decent. And then she was wearing a bright rainbowish, flowery summer dress with a stiff skirt and a bright hibiscus flower tucked into her curls.

Ron had been not so fortunate in his wardrobe change and now sported seriously wide-legged black trousers and one of those blue shirts with the ruffles on the sleeves. Hermione had to stop dancing she was laughing so hard.

"Oh, sod off. This is Yule Ball all over again," he griped, picking dejectedly at a cheery ruffle while he waited for Hermione to collect herself. "I'm not ever dancing with you again, ya know."

"I'm sorry," she gasped, holding the back of her hand over her mouth just short of touching. She held out her arms to him for them to start dancing again, though her shoulders kept shaking from residual laughter and her cheeks were a healthy rose-pink. "You look..._fine_. It doesn't matter."

"You sound like you're feeling better..." he mused, pushing her forward slightly and getting them both on tempo.

She rolled her eyes, falling into step with her new strappy sandals. "As long as I never have to sing ever again in my whole entire life. _Ever_," she stressed.

"Nothing good came out of it?" the red-head pressed with a grin. Hermione, to her credit, gave him a Malfoy-worthy dirty look. "I'm just saying...why are you dancing with me, when Lupin is sitting at the bar?"

"You SHOVED me onto the dance floor!" Hermione exclaimed, earning the pair quite a few surprised looks. Still she couldn't help the quick expository look over her shoulder towards the direction of Rosmerta's bar. "Besides, I'm planning on dancing with everyone."

"First off: I only shoved in retribution for those you unjustly shoved beforehand. _Secondly_, you are totally full of shit."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Hermione gaped; sounding uncannily like Lily had only a dozen or so minutes earlier. More looks.

"I'm your blood mate," he winked. "I know these things."

"Don't let it go to your head," she mumbled, turning slightly pink. Telling Harry she thought they were soul mates when she thought they'd never see each other again was one thing. Belting out to Ron that they were blood mates in the middle of a sassy pop number was a completely other story entirely.

Then the song ended and she was being handed off to Harry for a tango as the lights dimmed to dusty red and all the walls and floors darkened. Whatever spell that was working the transmogrification deemed her original gown decent enough to tango in, though the poofy tulle skirts beneath the silk disappeared and the dress became more svelte. Harry lost his tie, which was a benefit to him, and the line of buttons on his shirt got a tinsy bit of ruffle, but nothing so bad as what Ron had gone through.

He grabbed her hand and waist in the traditional tango-position and led her straight across the dance floor with dramatic flourish. "Too many clubs in New York that they couldn't pick just one?" he joked.

"I suppose so," Hermione agreed, though she was getting slightly dizzy with all the sharp turns.

"Guess they've got people of every flavor in New York." He dipped her down and her lips were suddenly pressed around a long-stemmed rose.

She spit it out with a disgusted sound, while Harry laughed heartily and steered them around the disappearing flora. "I thought the men did the flower-teethy thing."

"Well, Lily _did _say you were unfeminine," he reminded her.

Hermione jerked her head slightly. "Do you see this hair? A painfully long process _forced_ upon me, okay. I have the femme hair at least; in no small part due to Ginny attacking me with her wand and a good deal of pins."

Time flew by as Hermione moved between dance partners. She danced to more House music with the other girls and Gwen, attempted a swing dance with Neville to the distress of her trodden-feet, slow-danced with Sirius and then Harry again, and was snatched by James for a rowdy foxtrot. Somewhere in the middle of all of this she managed to get one glass of the customary punch – which she hoped hadn't been inappropriately altered so early in the evening – and stopped by Snape, supervising with a surly attitude, to thank him for the ingredients he'd begrudgingly given her.

Thanking Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw prefect, for the lovely dance with a quick hug and quicker word to say hello to Hannah, his date, she watched him walk away and sighed. Rubbing her sore neck, she turned around at the tap on her shoulder and came face to face with Remus.

"May I still have that dance?"

Hermione glanced around at the darkness that was descending around them then down at her feet, shifting them anxiously as shiny black tiles spread out across the wood floor. Blue spotlights appeared along the seams of the walls and floor, casting eerie glows on the tile. She could see her face reflected back at her.

"You like jazz?" She asked, gesturing to the shadowed ambiance.

"Love it," Remus answered, taking her hand. He spun her sharply around and into the center of the dance floor and its dusty blue spotlight.

The bulky mass of her gold gown changed into a tight black dress with a diagonally cut hem at her knees that billowed up around her thighs in her spin. Remus's jacket and bow-tied shirt were traded in for a more sensual silk shirt in crimson red that felt cool and smooth beneath her fingertips.

The tempo began with low, twanging bass strings and the bodiless sound of fingers snapping coming from somewhere within the throng of instruments. They were totally within the centre of the dancers when they began to walk after one another in a circle – Remus' hands settling high on her waist.

s--

Sliding her palms down her sides she found his hands and pulled herself by them against his chest, forcing his arms to wrap around her.

s--

Hermione swayed her hips in time to the sultry music, her arms casually draped over his shoulders as the other dancers took their cue and grabbed partners of their own. In the dark blue spotlight, Hermione and Remus danced close together completely absorbed in their dance.

s--

Cymbals crashed and Hermione was spun outwards with a snap as the lights flashed to passion red. Curls were tumbling down out of Ginny's artful creation but they gave Hermione's face a softened look and showed more of the wild-sided girl Remus knew she hid. That same Hermione reached out with curling fingers and hooked them through one of the holes between his shirt's buttons. Their skin burned whenever it touched.

s--

Hermione took a step back and then another, each done with still a hint of the dance and a smooth sashay in her hips. Her hand on his shirt became taut and now with every step she took, she led him after her.

s--

Remus sped up his pace, and Hermione matched it – teasingly keeping just out of reach as the music accompanied their cat and mouse game. Then he reached up and slipped his hand beneath the one holding him and pulled her back in his direction. He gave the motion a subtle spin at the end, and a whirling-skirt Hermione spun like a top into his arms; her back to his chest and his arms crossed over her breasts.

s--

Hermione pulled away, growing frustrated with only the warm puff of his breath on her cheek and no face to look at as they danced. She was surprised when his hands automatically found their way to her hips and she was pulled back closer before she could attempt to do so herself. Remus didn't seem to be fully aware of what he was doing, and neither did Hermione as she placed her hands over his, interlocking their fingers.

s--

For a moment the spotlight they'd worked themselves back under was deep royal purple before it reverted wholly to its original blue, as the atmosphere of the hall cooled. The pair's dance had been reduced to nothing but swaying, twisting bodies yet it was enough.

s--

At the cymbal crash, Hermione was dipped back unexpectedly and her heart leapt into her throat. But Remus' strong hands were on her waist, holding her steady above the last few feet to the tile floor and his touch sent a calmness rushing through her.

s--

Slowly pulling her back up to rights as the last line echoed again and again and it wasn't until this thought that Hermione realized there had been no band there to sing the song. A hand slid up her back to cradle her head with considerate geniality, but when Hermione was able to look Remus properly in the eyes, the gleam in those gunmetal depths was far from 'genial'.

Hermione had thought it was hard to say what it was that made Remus so much more appealing than Sirius, or anyone else for that matter, but at that moment there was no doubt in her mind. It was the sure, caring hands on her back, the shaggy blonde-brown bangs that fell over his brow, the burning look in his eyes. It was simply _Remus_.

Her face tilted up slightly before she'd even recognized what the fluttering feeling in her stomach meant. Right there, in that moment, standing in the circle of light that cast them in blue hues the rest of the world faded away. In the safety of his arms, Hermione felt as though she could be as selfish as she'd longed to be. Time be damned, and to hell with anything looking even remotely like a 'rule'. Right now, she was just a girl. And maybe she was in love, but she was just standing there...begging a boy to kiss her.

The light was beginning to fade, her dress to melt back to normal. _They were losing the moment._ Hermione gripped his hands and lifted a bit onto the balls of her feet. How many times had they come this close? Hermione was aching to know what he tasted like.

"We can just go back," Remus whispered down into her upturned face. "Be just friends again. Whatever makes you happy."

Hermione smiled. He was sweeter than words and utterly _perfect_. "You idiot," she chuckled softly, the rush of the moment making her slightly giddy. "I'm happy _here_."

Remus gaped in surprise, only causing Hermione to beam wider at rendering him totally speechless. Then the backs of his fingers were brushing a stray tendril aside from her cheek and tilting her chin up to meet his mouth. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, but the kiss never came.

Someone barreled into her with bruising velocity and a scream ricocheted off the walls. It took Hermione a half-second to realize it had been her own. As her attacker rode her to the ground, her head impacted with the unforgiving stone and her eyes snapped open with spots streaking across her vision.

Strong hands clamped down around her neck, squeezing out every last bit of oxygen, and as she choked and gasped, she reached up to try and pry the fingers from her neck only to stare in horror at the snarling wizard straddling her waist as he strangled her. Dark hair and bright green eyes.

"Ha...rry!" Hermione wheezed in disbelief.

"DIE MUDBLOOD WHORE!"

* * *

Oh, yeah...cliffhanger or what! Whacko-jacko!Harry will be explained next chapter, and I guarantee you'll never guess what's up. By the way, if you hadn't been keeping up – next chapter will probably be the last one. Then maybe an epilogue and that's it! TR's done! 

Wowzers.

Just for funsies – **Make some predictions for the final chapter**.


	35. XXXIV The Finale

**Completed: **(5/1/05) 11:35 PM  
**Posted:** (5/2/05) 6:35 PM

_A/N:_ Here it is. The **final** chapter. I really hope you enjoy it as I put forth a great deal of effort into making it perfect. I love this story very much, and I hope you've had as much fun reading it as I've had writing it. This will definitely be placed in the vault beside An Inevitable Fate, where it can be much loved for ages.

_Mentions:_ My heart goes out to everyone who reviewed even just that once and especially to those who've been with me from the start: **Rane2920072**, **dancing in rain**, **Mitsuki Ashya**, **ducks-rule-world**, **Black-rose23**, **StarDust002**, **MoonyNZ**, and of course my muse **meggiebaby81**. If I've forgotten your name I'm sorry – there's just so many of you who've taken the time to write something and I appreciate all of it!

_Plans_: While there's a high probably of an epilogue because Meg demands it, it will become a DEFINITE thing if just twenty of you review with a 'yes'. This would of course wrap up everything that's been going on and answer the much debated question: 'Are the Marauders going home?'

* * *

He began to shake her. Each violent jerk slamming her head back against the tile and making lights dance across her vision. People were screaming and though a dozen sets of hands were yanking at him it only tightened his grip around her throat, and despite the bloody furrows she'd clawed into his hands in her desperation Harry was not letting go.

Her fingers burned from her slow suffocation, but she ignored the pain, curled each one in a fist, and with all the strength she had punched him right across the face. Harry rocked backwards, dragging her shoulders up off the ground with him, though the blow hardly fazed him at all.

"How _dare_ you lay a hand on me, you filth," his hissed. Harry pulled back a hand to hit her and that was all that was needed.

Sirius came barreling into the shorter boy, his magical strength and momentum rolling the three of them over and then ripping Harry off of a flailing Hermione and careening across the dance floor. Blood trickling down her chin, Hermione sucked in and out but no air seemed to be making it past her lips. She was hyperventilating.

Remus was suddenly kneeling in front of her and she latched on to him, still struggling to get a breath past her frantically gasping mouth. She knew she had to calm down, had to breathe slowly, but all she could think was that she was suffocating and going to die. She needed air _now_.

"I've got her Remus – go help Sirius."

Cool, gloved hands cupped her face and though the smooth satin cooled her cheeks, it did nothing to stop her hysterics. Wide-eyed, Hermione watch Lily bite down on one of the glove's fingers and yank the whole thing off by her teeth. When the bare skin made contact with her own, air flooded into her lungs so fast she thought they would burst rather than collapse.

"Are you alright?" Lily asked, trying to get a lock on Hermione's darting honey eyes. "We need you to breathe, okay? We need your help."

"S-Sirius..." Hermione gasped, re-acclimating herself to the concept of breathing.

An explosion rocked the Great Hall, blowing a half dozen of the lights and raining rubble down on top of the two girls as they threw themselves to the floor. Seconds later, Sirius's body came skidding to a stop in front of them.

"SIRIUS!" Getting caught up in her thick gown, Hermione only made it a few feet on her knees before she came tumbling down and had to crawl to him.

"Gods, Sirius," she whispered, leaning over his chest and picking his head gingerly up off the hard ground. His face bore a few minor scratches from flying debris, but there was a long gash drawing a line from his temple to his jaw. "Come on wake up," she murmured, lightly tapping the uninjured side of his face while she lifted the hem of her gown to her teeth and tore a strip of the expensive silk free.

Another explosion sounded from the opposite end of the hall, and Hermione prayed that whatever was going on behind her could hold on a few more moments. Wadding up the silk, she pressed it against the wound to try and staunch the bleeding and somewhere in between, he'd opened his eyes.

"You're hurt," Sirius wheezed and coughed a bit and Hermione brushed back his hair with a soothing hushing sound, ignoring the dried blood on her chin.

"And you're an idiot." She tried to make it a joke, but it was hard to hide her distress as the blood had seeped through the cloth and was now dribbling down her arm. "I had everything under control..."

Sirius chuckled weakly at her joke and the action made him dissolve into a fit of coughing. She shushed him again and grabbed his hand, placing it over the makeshift rag.

"JUSTIN!"

Hermione gestured to Lily who reached out to take Sirius' free hand. "Lily's going to stay with you. Just keep holding that to your cut – it should stop the bleeding," she told him quickly, sounding surer than she felt. "I have to figure out what's going on."

"Hermione..." Sirius said as she got to her feet and looked down at him. "That's..._n-not_ Harry..."

Hermione nodded grimly. "I know." The dress had to go. She could hardly move in the thick tulle. Dragging her hand across it, a jagged line sliced through each layer around the circle of her knees and the excess material of her once beautiful Vera Wang dress hit the floor. "Keep him safe, Lily."

Kicking off her heels, Hermione ran into the opposing flow of students trying to reach the doors, elbowing and shoving her way through the throng with Sirius yelling after her.

"I don't need a...babysitter!" He huffed. Sirius tried to sit up, but Lily pushed him back down with a hand on his chest.

"You've done your part," Lily insisted. "Hermione's the one that has to face Harry."

"No shit," he muttered, knocking off her hand. "But what about the others?"

"_Others_?"

* * *

Suddenly there were no more people to push through and Hermione staggered out into the open clearing the students had flocked to abandon and for good reason. Harry, completely unmarred from his fight with Sirius, was holding a flailing girl in a white dress above him, while James and Ron tried to fight their way through Justin Finch-Fletchley and some younger girl, who were battling back with a strength neither were capable of.

"HARRY!"

That got his attention. A pale panic-filled face surrounded by strawberry curls cried out to her in terror before Harry re-hefted his burden. It was Ivy Hart he was holding over his head; the fifth year, Ravenclaw prefect.

"Put. Her. Down." Hermione's eyes narrowed and her hands were up in position to attack.

"Did you enjoy the beating I gave your thrice-damned toy?" Harry laughed maliciously. "He flew a _long_ way. Just like this pretty thing..."

Ivy screamed as she was hurled through the air.

"JAMES!"

The little girl he was fighting squealed as he kicked her off of him and ran for the falling prefect. He dove into one of the bordering tables to catch her and the pair rolled through a stand of candles then fell onto the floor. As James began violently trying to beat out the flames creeping up her pretty dress, Harry drew his wand on Hermione and the doors to the Great Hall slammed shut.

All the students were now trapped inside.

"I will enjoy flaying the flesh from your bones," Harry told her, twirling his wand. He was holding himself in a completely different fashion – taller, domineering, and more sinisterly. Not even his emerald eyes retained the spark that was 'Harry'.

"Do not think that because you wear the mask of Harry Potter, I will hesitate in killing you, because I won't," Hermione swore with complete apathy. "You are _evil_."

"Ahahaha!" The high-pitched, shrieking giggle came from the young girl; a second year by the name of Chrissy – her golden-blonde hair all curled into ringlets, her pink party dress neatly pressed, and a bloody handprint across her breast. "Death, Death!" She cried. "How good to see you again!"

Hermione recognized that fanatical laughter. It was the voice always ringing in her right ear; the one that haunted her sleep even now. And just like that...everything fell into place.

"_Bellatrix_," she hissed.

Chrissy clapped her hands excitedly together, Bellatrix Black's insanity turning her young, childish demeanor into a haunting parody of naïveté that was eerie to watch. "Oh, Auntie Death – you remember me!"

"You're dead now?"

"Mm hmm!"

"_Good_."

"Silence, Black!" Harry snarled at the little girl. "The Dark Lord may have killed you for his divine plan, but at least then I thought your damn babbling would stop."

"Who else would Riddle send in his front guard," Hermione said. If she kept them talking long enough, then perhaps Snape and Flitwick could break through the locks on the doors and get the innocent students to safety. "Bellatrix, Lucius," her eyes settled on Justin, cowering behind Harry, and her blood began to boil. "and _Pettigrew_..."

"Grudges, grudges mudblood," Harry said, toying with the end of his wand. Chrissy giggled inanely in the background. "Time to die."

They leapt at one another simultaneously and their fight began with flying fists and explosive bursts of magic. Though it was Lucius' soul now in control of her friend, he had gained all the abilities and strengths that Harry had, as well as his absolute raw power. The gravity training she'd put them both through gave their fight an inhumane agility and fevered pitch.

Hermione swung at his face while bringing back her forearm to block the punch intended for her gut. Harry blocked her as well and they shoved each others' hands back only to try and make bruising contact once again. As they exchanged rapid fire combos to breach the other's defenses, she watched Remus break the banister off of the bar and use the heavy makeshift staff to join the fight against Justin and Chrissy.

Harry's palm caught her fist and began to squeeze. She aimed to bring her elbow down into his face, but he caught that as well and with a grunt of force lifted her up off the ground and threw her back over his head. Hermione readjusted her grip to hold him now, and she twisted to put her feet at his back and dragged him down with her. Kicking upwards, Harry was slammed down onto the cobblestones above her head, but before she could pull herself back up, he'd dug his nails into her hands.

Harry didn't have the strength – no human did. But from his own back he lifted Hermione off of hers and threw her across the room. With a shout she flew through one of the hanging House tapestries, getting tangled in the thick green cloth, and broke through one of the tables in a heap of rubble.

"Leave her!" Lily shouted, as Ron tried to break away from Justin to go to her. "She's fine! Remus! Protect the students while the Professors get these bloody doors open."

"Prefects!" Ginny yelled, shooting an array of sparks into the air. "Rally to me! Form a line of defense—"

The floor began to tremble, the goblets quaking across the tabletops and clattering to the stone. The sounds of James and Bellatrix's magic ricocheting off one another dominated the hall. And then the pile of debris that covered Hermione exploded upward in a column four meters high. Like a string pulling upwards at the crown of her head, Hermione rose up onto her feet, but she was changed.

There was a strange, phosphorescent light in her eyes and she suddenly seemed more than the frail eighteen year old girl she'd been before. "MALFOY!" Her voice boomed through the Great Hall, warped and with a deep echo that made it seem as though many different voices were talking over one another.

The self-satisfied smirk fell from Harry's face. "Ava-"

Hermione flung out her hand and a pulsing blue whip of magic shot out from her palm and lashed itself around Harry's neck, cutting short his curse as he struggled to pull the noose from his neck. With a flick of her wrist, she grabbed a hold of the whip's end and gave it a swift yank. Harry dropped to his knees.

"I will not bow to your kind," he gurgled, degradingly, spittle falling down his chin.

Hermione pulled herself to the struggling wizard by keeping her magic rope taught between them. "I don't expect you to bow..." her voice echoed.

Chrissy hopped down off the table she'd been standing on, her ash wand held in her chubby fingers. "I think she wants you to die, Uncle Lucy."

Hermione slashed her hand through the air, and Chrissy shrieked as four bloody furrows cut through her cheek. "Naughty Death!" She howled and waved her wand viciously at Hermione. Deep gashes broke the skin on either side of her face, snapping her head back.

Grunting with the effort, Hermione spun around dragging Harry and lifted him up off the ground. As she turned back to her original orientation she let loose the whip and Harry crashed into the blonde, knocking them through the band stand. Through all this, she'd paid no mind to the sniveling spirit of Peter Pettigrew that had enslaved the prefect Justin, and so she was caught off guard when his spell exploded in her face.

She screamed in pain and lifted her hand to strike, but lithe arms wrapped around her own and held it back.

"Hermione NO!"

Justin hid behind his hands as he slunk around the broken stand to hide from the witch's wrath. The light in Hermione's hand sparked against the restraint, but slowly as if in a daze she turned to look at Remus holding tight to her hand.

"That's Justin under there," he whispered. "Whatever happens here won't change my feelings for you, but for the sake of the others – do what you can not to harm them."

Hermione just stared at him, the thundering noise of static roaring in her ears. The world around her had gone completely red, the warm tingling feeling that pulsed through her veins only felt before with such intensity that day on the training grounds with Tonks and the others. The beast inside was pushing, clawing, searching for a way out.

Magic exploded in front of them both as Hermione stepped in front of Remus with her arms outstretched to deflect the spells launched at her by a recovered Harry. Keeping Remus behind her, she vaulted herself forward and into a front handspring. Chrissy's nose broke with an audible crack as her foot impacted it and then she was riding Harry to the floor.

Harry broke most of her fall, but as she righted herself across his chest his fist came free and cracked her across the face. She recoiled from the blow and then backhanded him across the jaw, splitting his cheek against the cobblestone. "What is your purpose here?" She demanded

"Our purpose is His purpose," Harry snarled, showing the snake of Malfoy inside of him.

Hermione punched him again. He laughed at her, sending a dark trickle of blood down his chin. "You can do what you like to this body, harlot; the dead feel nothing. You're only killing your little friend..." Malfoy loosened his hold on Harry's soul for the briefest of moments – enough time for the expression on his face to change and Harry's bright green eyes to lock onto hers.

"Hermione," he pleaded, nearly out of breath. Hermione's hand stopped halfway into the air and her blank face turned to his. Struggling every second of the way, Harry reached up to touch her hand and only managed the barest of grazes by his dirty fingertips along her palm.

"_Kill him_..." Harry whispered.

Lucius took control again with a guttural scream of rage. "NO!" he bellowed, reaching for her throat. Hermione knocked both his hands aside, pinned them with her knees, and blinded him by unleashing the light of an exploding star in front of his eyes.

His pained writhing offset Hermione and her back hit the stone. Harry reared up into a sitting position, eager to be free again though he still could not see properly. "Disgusting mudbl-"

Harry choked and gagged as Hermione's magic wrapped its invisible fingers about his neck and squeezed the breath out of him. She herself staggered up onto her feet and with a shuddering effort, shot equally strangling nooses around Justin and Chrissy. She'd never cast a spell to this extent before, but somehow she was managing with the physical gestures of her hands as she lifted the paralyzed but struggling trio into the air above the trashed band stand.

"Truth!" She called, not taking her eyes off them.

"What are you going to do, Hermione?" Ginny asked, kneeling on the steps beside her.

"I'm going to save them."

With a shuddering breath, the beast found its freedom in slipping through her lips because she couldn't wait for Remus to come to her. The leopard roared in her head and she watched through its eyes as it darted around students, sprinted over tables, and leapt straight into Remus. He staggered forward, clutching his bronze staff for balance, and when he looked up his blue-gray eyes had bled to gold.

Her metaphysical beast slipped back inside her through her legs, carrying with it a link to Truth and the musky after scent of the wolf. The rush of energy exploded the pleasure centers flaming through her body and she gasped loudly; her fingers convulsing a moment on the invisible ropes and choking the suspended trio further.

All she needed was a look up through her lashes and she could see the blackness festering inside Harry and the others. She could see it slinking outwards through their veins like cursed ink, poisoning their bodies with its evil taint. The wolf and the cat were curled around one another in her belly, pulsing with light and energy and heat; mewling in her ear to take those dark seeds and rip them out.

So she did.

Reaching past their true souls, she found each of the evil spirits and snatched them right out through the layers of flesh and bones and into the open air. A torrent of wind cocooned Hermione, whipping her sheared dress inappropriately in all directions and yanking curls all about, sending their restraining pins shooting off to the sides like miniature missiles.

The three bodies were slumped above her, unconscious from the metaphysical drain, and the souls of Peter, Lucius, and Bellatrix writhed in the air above her like fish caught in a net. Watching their limp, translucent images jerking spasmodically – mouths open in wordless profanities – Hermione felt herself regress to something pre-civilization, controlled by primeval urges.

She wanted to tear them apart with her eyes, rip the metaphysical substance into so many pieces that they'd finally explode like a million shards of glass and disappear forever, hardly enough of them left to make it past limbo. And she knew she could do it too. Or she could squeeze them like oranges through a juice grinder, lock them up in boxes from which there was no escape, and bury them a thousand miles under the sea where they would never be able to cross and would spend eternity with the fishes. She could do that too. They tasted so good; like honey and cotton candy. She could just swallow their souls whole.

And for a long time, the tense situation ground to a halt with a windblown Hermione standing with arms outstretched to the captured souls hanging over everyone's head. The entire hall was caught in Hermione's indecision; no one aware of the dark thoughts and even darker ideas plaguing her consciousness.

Magic roared over all other sounds, creating a wall of white noise that tried to block out the world around her – not even Lily's moving mouth beside her ear made it past the barrier. But a warm hand on her shoulder did. Wordless, but screaming, the emotions rocketed straight to her heart; hope, love, and utter surety in _Hermione_.

Clinging to the strong convictions Lily had reinstated in her, Hermione pushed back all thoughts, save one, and brought her palms together in a stinging clap.

"I CAST YOU OUT!"

Hermione went down onto her knees and brought her palms slamming down onto the hard stone. A deafening boom echoed throughout the Great Hall and a physical shockwave accompanied it, staggering back the crowded students. The unconscious bodies of Harry, Chrissy, and Justin all floated lethargically down to the wrecked bandstand and were laid gently out as if some great hand was putting its dolls to sleep, but Hermione was only conscious long enough to sever the link between Magic and Truth before she collapsed face-first atop the steps of the dais and lifelessly slid down them to a heap on the dance floor.

The doors slammed open and there stood Dumbledore, with McGonagall and the other professors right behind him. "Get the wounded to the Hospital Wing!" He boomed. "The rest of the students are to remain in the Hall until the rest of the castle is secured."

Hermione, the trio, and a few other students were placed onto magical stretchers and sent whizzing up the grand staircase to Madame Pomfrey's care, while the other students huddled in masse at the Great Hall's center, the prefects forming a protective circle around them.

"Severus! You and the Head Boy stay with the children. Everyone else split up and search the grounds!"

The staff followed Dumbledore out and diverged down the two corridors and up the Grand Staircase, wands held aloft. The large doors drifted back shut on the smirking face of Draco Malfoy and the lights went out. Some of the easily-startled students screamed and the prefects hurried to calm them down.

When the lights flickered back on, the Great Hall was empty.

* * *

"Hermione...Hermione, wake up."

"Harry?" Hermione groaned and rolled over on the starchy sheets. Gentle hands were running through her hair and she took a moment in the comforting silence to rub at her eyes before opening them.

Harry was sitting up on the floor-cot beside her own and idly putting back some semblance of order to her ruined hair. He, or Madame Pomfrey more likely, had fixed his glasses after the second hit to his face had finally cracked the right lens.

"Hey," she croaked and rubbed at her throat.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Harry insisted profusely. "I tried to stop him, really—"

"I look that bad, huh?" She chuckled humorlessly. Harry held up a mirror for her to see into.

Hermione probed the bruised flesh of her neck marked with the ten purple imprints of Harry's fingers, examined the dried, but bloody, gashes along her cheeks, and gently fingered the puffy circle across the left side of her jaw. "Well..." she said finally. "Guys dig scars, right?"

Harry gave a short laugh and hugged her tightly to him, softly kissing her temple as though he thought her entire face was one big bruise. "Madame Pomfrey should be back any minute," he swore. "Since none of us were actually dying she hurried down to get the students with the smaller injuries while the Professors secure the castle."

"Uhn," Hermione groaned; a pain jolting through her skull. "Is Sirius here? He, uhn...got hurt helping me..."

Harry was more worried about the pained expression on her face then her question. "No, he didn't make it in the first wave," he rushed out. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Do you need to lie down?"

She smiled. "I think it's...yes, it's probably a concussion. I'll live."

Running his hands edgily through his already mangled locks, Harry let out a pent up sigh of frustration. "Well, you were right. Voldemort did try and pull something."

A dry chuckle. "I'm always right..."

**WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!**

"WHAT'S GOING ON!" Harry shouted. The hands they clapped over their ears did nothing to lessen the booming siren sound pulsing through the hospital wing. Red lights began to flash spasmodically and the entire Hospital Wing was filled with pained cries as the injured were awoken by the commotion.

"SOMETHING'S WRONG!" Hermione yelled over the noise.

"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!" Harry was fumbling for his wand out of the back pocket of his jeans.

"I PUT THE GHOSTS INTO THE ASTRAL DIMENSION TO PASS ON!" The hardest part was to get herself moving again and her joints creaked, groaned, and protested, but she eventually got up to her knees. "THIS IS SOMETHING ELSE!"

"WHAT?"

"I DON'T KNOW—"

"_HERMIONE!_"

Following Harry's frantic pointing, Hermione looked down and was shocked to be able to see the tight knit of the floor cot _through_ her feet. From her toes to her knees her dirty legs had taken on a translucent tone which was only growing clearer by the second. The toes of her right foot were already completely invisible.

The night was anything but over.

Exhausted and overcome with stress, Hermione shouldered it all aside – knowing that to do so would result in a complete and total breakdown at the end of it all – because time was now a precious commodity and for the sake of her friends' lives she needed to stay focused. With a great fistful of Harry's dirty tux she tugged him up to her level and put her mouth right beside his ear – he had to hear _every _word.

"Harry – you have to listen closely," she said quickly. "Something big has happened and our friends are in trouble. There was...I brewed a potion. It works like a portkey, with a few altercations. I slipped it on the seven of you before the ball – it was on my gloves...it, it..." Hermione's frantically rushing brain hurried to find the words to explain. "If one of you was in the same place as a dress Vera and I put trackers on, it would bring me there as well..."

Harry struggled to comprehend her rushed speech, but her translucency now up to her ribs had him rightly distracted. "Dresses--!"

"One, if not all, of our friends are with Death Eaters now," Hermione finished in a pained tone.

"You're in no condition to go!" Harry exclaimed, clutching her arms and turning his head to look into her eyes. His were wide with worry and fear.

"I don't have a choice," she insisted. "I'll do all that I can to help them, but if I can't reach Sirius then my strength won't last long. You have to get Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore? I-I…Hermione, I—"

"Harry!" Hermione said firmly; his stammering stopped as she grabbed his face between her hands. Her fingertips were gone. "Dumbledore," she repeated. "You **must**. get. Dumbledore."

"How will he find you?" He questioned, eyes darting down her invisible body.

"The medallion!" Hermione exclaimed with sudden insight. "Find my medallion from Vera on my bureau."

Harry nodded frantically, but there was no longer the solid weight of her hands on his cheeks. In fact, her face was already fading away – the last part of her left. "You're coming back alive," he told her earnestly.

"And you have to stay here," Hermione insisted. "The Order needs you. I'll bring back our friends; I promise."

Harry reached for her, but his hands passed straight through nothingness. She wasn't simply 'invisible'; she was physically _gone_. "Hermione—"

"Stay hidden." Her voice was like a shallow breath of wind barely heard over the alarms. "Keep yourself safe..."

Her eyes vanished.

"Hermione?" Harry cried desperately. "HERMIONE!"

She never answered.

* * *

Deep in the bowels of Malfoy Manor, where the cobwebs were so thick they choked the air and the rats were afraid to leave their dark chinks in the wall for fear of the spiders, there had been built a dungeon for use in the crusades when the Moors were flooding across England in their fight against King Richard. Cells lined opposite walls of the long rectangular room with bars an inch and a half thick and slick with grime, algae, and other things that brought such thoughts to mind as weren't worth the horror of naming them.

There were dark stains across the stone floor, equally unnamable in their appall, that had been there for countless centuries or just a few days. For despite the filth and appearance of disuse, these dungeons had seen their share of recent prisoners. And on this Halloween night, at a quarter to midnight, the cold dampness of the underground room was replaced by the frightened heat of hundreds of young bodies as the entire student body of Hogwarts was portkeyed into the cells.

First and second years were screaming in terror and huddling in teary groups by the older children, whose own fear made them hardly braver. The prefects and seventh years were discovering the magical shields round their prison as their spells came rebounding painfully back upon them. Snape, the only professor that had been left in the hall, and a handful of students – the majority of them Slytherin – appeared on the other side of the bars; walking free in the long hallway.

"I _KNEW_ IT! MALFOY YOU SNAKE!" Ron yelled from one of the cells. Pushing through the frightened students in their fancy ball outfits, he reached the bars wand in hand.

"You knew and yet still I win?" Draco sneered, unthreatened by the wand pointed at him. "That makes you even more pathetic, Weasel. Prissy."

The fifth year Slytherin prefect and dressed in a lime green gown, Preston Linae elbowed her way through a Ravenclaw and Theo Nott, drawing her wand with dangerous glee. Her honey hair hanging over half her pixie face and her heavily kohl-ed eye wide with anticipation she resembled the dementia of Bellatrix.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" She cried, waving her wand sharply. The jet of magic hit Ron squarely in his chest, blasted him back off his feet and bowled over a dozen of the students behind him.

"RON!" Ginny screamed. But she was on the other side of the room and out of reach.

"Mister Malfoy," Snape hissed, drawing the younger boy aside. "I was not informed of these plans."

Draco glowered at his professor and wrenched back his arm. "Our Lord has recently discovered Dumbledore's gifts in invading the mind. You were too much in the old fool's company to risk telling, Severus."

"Perhaps you would care to inform me, _now_," The sallow-faced man said darkly, and for a moment Draco actually looked afraid.

"He's going to kill them," Draco said. "Their blood will give him new life and no one will be left to oppose him."

"SNAPE NO!" Lily's cries interrupted. James held her back. "WE TRUSTED YOU!"

"James!" Sirius yelled from the other side of the room. "Keep her _quiet_!"

In the cell beside him, Ron wasn't moving. He'd seen first hand what happened if you didn't hold your tongue.

"You'd do well to listen to him, Potter," Draco said silkily, twirling his wand. "Learn to control your women."

He snapped his long fingers and Pansy glided to him like a dog on a leash, her pink ruffled dress whispering across the disgusting floor. Draping her arms over his shoulder, the currently dark-haired Pansy hissed at the red-faced girl struggling in James' grasp.

"I TOLD HERMIONE TO TRUST YOU!" Lily yelled. "TRAITOR!"

Draco murmured something in Pansy's ear, and the smirking prefect lifted her wand at Lily. Eyes widening in surprise, James finally clapped a hand over his girlfriend's mouth and dragged her back into the swarm of students and out of sight. Pouting, Pansy began to advance, but Snape grabbed her wrist and yanked her back.

"Enough of your party games, Mister Malfoy," he ordered. "What of Dumbledore?"

"He'll be too late to stop anything – he's still searching the castle as we speak." Draco laughed as the dungeon doors opened and Death Eaters in their own Halloween livery began entering. "Not even the _mighty_ Harry Potter is in any shape to take on the Dark Lord. His own mudblood whore took care of that."

* * *

Remus sighed in relief and the painful grip he'd set on Sirius' arm lessened. "Hermione's not here," he whispered, and the taller boy sagged against the bars in equal gratitude to the Powers That Be.

"Thank Merlin..." Sirius whispered into the darkness. "Moony, I—"

"Padfoot...If I don't make it out of this..."

Sirius looked over at him in disbelief, his mouth parted in an 'o' of surprise. Remus' hands found their way to the bars and he gripped them tightly, looking down to hide his eyes in a curtain of honey-brown bangs.

"Please take care of Hermione."

"Moony..."

"Swear it!" Remus demanded. He glared up at Sirius stubbornly.

Sirius' mouth was pressed into a thin, firm line looking down into Remus' fierce eyes. "Of course I will," he answered finally. "You know I'd do anything to keep her safe…"

Remus nodded, albeit sadly, and said, "I know..."

Sirius clapped his friend solidly on the shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry mate. She'll have you for that; I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy, widowed but no less devoted, lifted up the skirts of her gorgeous emerald dress with its black lace accents and strode gracefully but with purpose across the dungeons to the gathering followers.

"Mother," Draco greeted reverently. He bowed and kissed the back of her ebony-gloved hand. "Everything has gone according to plan."

"Excellent," she praised. "You are on the right path to following in your father's glorious footsteps."

Her sharp eyes caught on something behind her son, and Narcissa pushed him roughly aside to confront it. "Is something wrong, Jezabelle?" She demanded suspiciously of the sixth year prefect.

The blonde quickly cleared her face and corrected her posture. "No, my lady." She curtsied swiftly in her svelte black dress that laced up over baby blue sides. She looked warily over at Snape and then back down to the monitor display where images of every room in the manor were exhibited.

"Your Lord has just arrived."

* * *

"Oh James," Lily whispered. "What are we going to do?"

He rubbed her back comfortingly and shook his head. "I don't know yet. We'll think of something...we've got to."

"But with two of the Star's strongest points missing and the third unconscious...we don't have enough power to do anything."

"Well, we're not going down without a fight are we?" He smiled, despite the bleakness of their situation.

Lily smiled back and hugged him tightly. "I think I know now..." she whispered.

"Know what?" he asked quietly.

"Why I married you..."

* * *

"Ronald. Ronald, wake up!"

Head aching and his back throbbing, Ron warily opened his eyes and was met with the curiously scrunched face of one Luna Lovegood. "W-What happened?"

The blonde settled back on her haunches so he could sit up and twirled a particularly frazzled-looking lock of hair around her finger. "You lost."

He glared at the odd girl. "I can see that."

As if his probable concussion wasn't nauseating enough, Luna's dress was poofy and pastel rainbow; the water-colored streaks of pink to lavender repeating themselves over and over. "You're friends in the next cell over said Hermione wasn't here. I don't think Harry got portkeyed with us either..." she mused, flicking the wand she'd stashed behind her ear.

"It's up to us then?" Ron swallowed hard. He'd always been the sidekick, right? First Harry had been the hero, and then Hermione had come into her own, but he'd never had any problem being backstage. Was this his turn? He could handle it...no problem.

"We're so screwed," he whispered.

* * *

The dungeon door drifted eerily open and the sudden chill that descended on the crowded cells instantly silenced the prisoners and everyone turned to watch Voldemort descend into the dungeons.

He wore heavy robes of the darkest black upon which were designed nearly invisible serpents and symbols of evil and darkness in every imaginable tongue. The hood hung low over his face to obscure all his features and not even the skin of his hands was visible for he wore thick dragonhide gloves. And when he called to Narcissa his voice was almost human.

"Everything is ready for the ritual, my lord," Narcissa informed him, curtsying low and abasing herself before the evil wizard.

"Well done, Narcissa..." Voldemort acknowledged lowly. "The killing of your cousin, Bellatrix, has opened the gateway to the realm of blood."

Narcissa nodded her blonde head low and ignored the image of her cousin's bloody body Voldemort slipped into her mind. The black dress with its blood red roses and overlapping tulle had suited her perfectly, even if she was still pale and emaciated from her stay in Azkaban. Narcissa had helped her with her long hair herself.

And all it had taken was a word from Voldemort that Bella's soul was needed for his plan and Narcissa had taken an athame to her cousin's back.

"Are they all fresh?" he demanded in that same low voice that was just soft enough to send chills down your spine.

Narcissa rose from her curtsy, no sign of reaction to her cousin's dead image on her perfectly porcelain face. "Yes, my Lord. After the first phase of your plan was completed we waited for the severely injured ones to be removed, including Potter, and for Dumbledore and the other professors to abandon the Hall before activating the portkey."

As the face beneath the hood turned to survey the cells, Remus in his panic grabbed Sirius roughly and yanked his body against his. A startled Sirius, bent down awkwardly in his friend's sudden embrace, stood stiffly against him until Remus whispered for him to relax. Voldemort's eyes passed over them like a tangible weight and Remus held Sirius' head between his own and his hand, keeping his face between Sirius and the bars.

"Remus?"

"Shh!" The brunet hissed insistently, hugging him tighter and trying for all the world to look as if he thought he was about to die. It wasn't hard to imagine.

"_Perfect..._" Voldemort murmured, and his gaze moved on. "You have far exceeded your late husband's worth, Narcissa."

"My only wish is to serve you..."

Remus released Sirius with a breathless 'thank, Merlin' and looked down at his hand. It was smeared with coppery blood that was already trying to drip down his arm.

Sirius gaped in surprise. Remus had been hiding his wound from Voldemort...

Wincing as he did so, Remus tore a strip off his wonderfully new and un-patched tuxedo jacket and used it to scrub at the drying blood with a frantic fervor. "Whatever this blood ritual Voldemort has planned for us, it's keeping us alive a little longer," he explained as if demonstrating how to properly pot a mandrake. "As long as he doesn't see your gash he won't find the need to kill you _before_ we figure a way out of this mess—"

He was cut off by Sirius wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hugging him gruffly. "Hermione deserves you," he said huskily in his ear. "You're a good friend."

"She deserves you too, Pads," Remus insisted. Then he stepped away. " 'Sides...she'd kill me if I let anything happen to you."

"NARCISSA!"

Everyone in the room turned to watch Jezabelle, who was furiously tapping away at the monitor console.

"What is it?" Narcissa demanded, picking up her skirts and striding angrily over to the blonde.

The prefect's fingers flew across the board as she relayed the message. "Someone's breached the Manor's gate—"

"WHAT!" Narcissa shrieked.

"—they've entered the building. Sending guards to intercept."

"Find them!"

Jezabelle's face snapped to the side as the back of Narcissa's hand met her cheek. A tiny trickle of blood oozed down her jaw from a cut made by the ring on the woman's finger. Gritting her teeth, Jezabelle ignored the stinging pain and went back to her work.

"Attempting to track now," she imparted, and then shook her head. "They're moving too fast – I'm having difficulty locking onto them." She grabbed an odd looking set of headphones and held one of the speakers up to her ear, continuing to type rather hastily across the keyboard. "They've cleared the first floor. Confirmed. The intruder is now on the ground level. Sending more forces to intercept."

"_Dumbledore_..." Voldemort growled furiously, and a collective wave of hope spread through the prisoners.

"No!" Jezabelle argued suddenly. Pressing a series of buttons with the tip of her wand, she touched the wooden end to one of the display screens and the room image it displayed projected itself up into the air for the whole dungeon to see. "It's _Granger_..."

Five prisoners lost their breath.

An audience of two hundred plus watched in rapt attention as the brunette witch blazed her way through all opposition on the screen. Her appearance was a sorry sight, but her actions belied her downtrodden looks. The two Death Eaters that dared try to stop her met with a blazing fireball she conjured over her head and bowled into them when it was the size of a bureau. It was just as well the display carried no audio, for the open mouthed, charred black bodies of the Death Eaters writhing on the floor was graphic enough.

"Detach that camera!" Narcissa ordered. "Keep her on that display!"

Jezabelle typed in a short sequence and the image wavered a moment before moving by entirely as whatever device that had been transmitting the picture sped off down the hall after Hermione. The breakneck speed at which she moved through the hallways had never been witnessed by most of the students – though all had seen how fast she could fight from the battle in the Great Hall – and they stared in wonder and amaze as her bare feet seemed to almost disappear beneath her furiously pumping legs.

She swerved off to the right and before the video-probe could follow, she was skidding back out again and resuming her earlier path down the hallway. It followed closely after, whirring and spinning around her head. Hermione shot a jolt of electricity at it, but the probe was already flying back around her and the lightening bolt fizzled out against one of the walls. She kept trying to zap the annoyance, but her pace never slowed.

"She knows where we are..." Dagon, the Slytherin Fifth said.

"_And_ she knows we're watching her," Jezabelle added.

"What's she doing?" Narcissa commanded, leaning over the monitors' console.

Jezabelle fiddled with another display, checking on the progress of the guards she'd dispatched. "She's systematically sweeping through the entire floor. She may not know how to get to us, but she's going to find out..."

"Kill her!" hissed Narcissa.

"You incompetent woman!" Snape roared, stepping up for the first time since his words with Draco. "Are you watching the screen! You can't _kill_ this girl – she's breaking right through your defenses like tissue paper."

As Narcissa reared up to answer Snape's insult, Voldemort lifted a warning hand effectively staying both their tongues. "Severus is right...this girl's blood will be rich with power and magic. Bring her to me _alive_."

Bosom heaving beneath her tightly laced dress, Narcissa turned her sharp face to Jezabelle, though her husky blue eyes were still sparking with the angry sting of her counsel being replaced by a snake like Snape. "You heard him," she snapped, and Jezabelle quickly moved to comply lest she be slapped again.

Another screen was projected beneath the first, but this one displayed a green-grided outline of the entire ground floor with coordinates mapping out the sides. "Granger is currently moving through Sector Beta –" a white, flickering blip appeared on the right side of the screen. "—your guards have taken up a position to capture at the coordinates Alpha-9 and Alpha-0." A significantly larger red circle came up onto the screen at its far left. The white dot, though darting into side corridors every so often, was quickly closing the distance between the two lights.

"Estimated time 'til contact?" A Death Eater demanded.

Another sequence of keystrokes. "At her current speed...seventy-one seconds."

Hermione must have seen them waiting because she stopped checking hallways and used the extra time to utterly demolish a heavy antique table. From the rubble she grabbed the long, ornate banister that had served as a connector between the table's legs and spun it over her head to test the weight of it. Satisfied with her weapon, she shifted it to one hand and ran straight for the waiting Death Eaters.

Jezabelle looked over at the prisoners pressing their dismayed faces against the bars and bit her lip. Back at the console she clicked a button with one long black nail and held the headphone closer to her ear. "Ten...nine...eight..."

The Death Eaters completely blocked off the end of the hallway, standing eight abreast and three deep.

"Seven...six..."

They raised their wands.

"Five...four..."

Hermione's mouth opened in a ferocious battle cry and the magic gathering in her free hand sparked and crackled with equal fervor.

Jezabelle raised her eyes to the screen. "Three...two...one..."

The white blip collided with the sea of red and disappeared.

"The guards have engaged the intruder."

Hermione barreled into the twenty four masked Death Eaters and all the visual-probe reported back was a blinding explosion of brilliant yellow light. When the dungeon was able to see again, two of the Death Eaters already lay dead or dying and the fight had begun with the girl in gold at its center.

She swung her staff in front of her like an arc, knocking back three guards then shoved it back behind her, catching another one in the face with its end as he came at her back. Hands grabbed her arm and she swept their legs out from under them with her staff, but still they held on. And when they were lying at her feet, with the arm they desperately clung to pointing down at them, she cast a petrification spell and the blast turned them completely to stone. Another swipe of her weapon kept the other Death Eaters back as she wrenched her arm free from the stony grasp and the petrified guard's arms crumbled with it.

Every spell imaginable, short of Avada, was being thrown at her, but most fizzled out before reaching her. The spells that did appear to make contact had no effect other than to slow her down for a half second or more. Stumbling back after one such barrage, Hermione stopped her attackers from rushing her by giving her staff a forceful throw like hurling a javelin. The blunt object pierced the stomach of two rushing Death Eaters and knocked a third one into a wall.

A kick at her back sent her flying forward and nearly skewered her on the staff as well. A bombarda spell exploded the stone in front of her face and the force sent her flying into the air. Her flailing hands found the chandelier and as she swung forward she kicked in the face of a guard and sent him crashing through his swarming comrades. One of the Death Eaters she'd beaten down earlier reached up with torn and bleeding hands to try and pull her down, but she let go of the light with one hand to blast the offending man off of her.

Magic exploded above her, severing the chain that held up the chandelier, and she screamed as the giant crystal monstrosity crashed to the floor with Hermione buried beneath it. Everything stopped.

The younger children began to cry and some of the older ones even began to yell obscenities at Voldemort, who took no notice of them. James was holding Lily's hand as she cried into his shoulder, and Luna sat wordlessly beside Ron as banged his fists into the ground and said nothing of the tears in his eyes. Sirius' face was buried in his arms and Remus was staring deadly at the floor. Ginny was sobbing openly.

"She had _better_ be alive..." Voldemort hissed at Narcissa.

While one or two of the guards began dragging their fallen comrades down the hall, the rest converged on the mound of twisted gold and shattered glass in a circle and began digging through the debris.

Narcissa and Snape had resumed their scowling match, but Voldemort had moved to stand beside a stiff Jezabelle at the console and was peering intently at the screen. "Have they found her yet?"

Jezabelle shook her head; long blonde ponytail swaying. "Not yet—"

"There!" Voldemort pointed at the screen and Jezabelle moved to zoom in on the space at which he was pointing. A pale hand streaked with blood was sticking out of the pile.

The Death Eaters had seen it too because they swarmed to that spot and began levitating off the hunks of warped metal and ceiling plaster. One grabbed for her wrist to pull her out and the onlookers watched fixatedly as his mask fell off revealing a mouth open in painful screams and his entire body melted into a steaming pile of goo that dripped off Hermione's immobile hand with syrupy consistency.

The pile began to rise and fall, knocking loose debris clattering down onto the stone floor. The hand began to move. It twisted and turned to widen the opening around it and was joined by a second hand. The massive remains of the chandelier parted like a sliding door and a bloody Hermione tumbled out.

She was exhausted and beaten, but she kept fighting as the guards resumed their attack on her. The first two she merely punched aside while she regained her strength and the next met with a roundhouse kick that sprayed a stream of blood from his jaw behind him. Both her arms were seized and she fired blast after blast out of her palms, but the guards were holding them tightly away from themselves. Trapped between them, two more Death Eaters fired glittering red streams into her. Stunning Spells. Each one sapped her strength, but by no means knocked her unconscious as they were intended to.

"Their Stunners are having no effect, my lord," Jezabelle reported needless. "What do you suggest?"

"I don't care how they do it – just bring her to me..."

Grimacing in pain, Hermione pushed off the ground and flipped herself backwards, thus wrenching herself from their grip and when she came right side up again, she kicked viciously out at the one on her right. The heel of her foot connected solidly with their throat; breaking their windpipe and cracking their spine. Grabbing the fist coming at her back, she heaved the attacking Death Eater over her head and slammed them down onto the stone in front of her, denting it.

She sagged against the wall, breathing heavily and blasting off anyone that came near her with weak bursts of energy. The visual-probe whirred overhead taking in the entire scene as she finally pushed off the wall with a few staggered steps and began to lope down the hall towards the dungeon doors.

A red burst hit her in the back and sent her sprawling face first onto the ground. The six black-robed bodies that remained literally fell upon her, pinning her to the ground as she fought and flailed to knock them off. The probe zoomed down for a closer look as Hermione broke free from the hand holding down her head and screamed. Golden light exploded across the screen and after there was nothing but static and then a black screen.

"The probe has been destroyed," Jezabelle announced into the following silence.

"And Granger?" Snape inquired lowly.

Her fingers flew across the console for a second and then she shook her head. "The registered camera for that section has also been destroyed. Waiting for audio confirmation."

All eyes were on the blonde as she pressed and held a key, lifting the speaker back up to her ear. She listened intently to a message only she could hear while Voldemort breathed down her neck and the prisoners waited in tense apprehension. Then she lowered the headphones and said, "Capture complete. Confirmed. The intruder is under secure custody."

Jezabelle had the distinct impression that Voldemort was smiling underneath the shadowing cowl of his robes. "Bring her to me..."

She nodded and lifted her finger off the key. Abandoning her post at the console, she warily moved to stand beside Pansy and Draco, her eyes on the door. It opened moments later to accommodate the four surviving Death Eaters as they dragged a still struggling Hermione behind them.

A thick iron collar was fastened around her neck so tightly that each forceful yank from one of the four chains held by her captors drew blood and sent her crashing down onto her bruised knees. There was no way for her to catch herself either for her wrists were also bound in iron chains. She was dragged down the stairs on her side and barely managed to get back onto her feet before she was forced down onto her knees in front of Voldemort.

"Gryffindors are always so valiant..." he mused dryly, circling the prone girl. "Did you really think you could save the day all by yourself?"

When she didn't answer, he crouched in front of her and tipped her face up with the end of his wand. She spit into the shadowed expanse of his face, and the mix of blood and hot spittle dripped down the collar of his robes.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Narcissa screamed in outrage and several Death Eaters had to hold her back.

Voldemort wiped his face with a gloved hand and then pulled back his hood to the startlement of all. He looked completely human. Breaking off one of the manacles over Hermione's wrist, he grabbed it with a gloveless hand even as she was reaching out with clawed fingers for his throat. Hermione glared up at his smirking face and tried to rip her arm free, but he only tightened his grip.

Hermione cried out as his nails broke the surface of her skin and blood welled up over her bruised skin.

"You may not be fresh," he sneered. "But the magic in your blood will more than compensate..."

Eyes widening in horror, Hermione's struggles became more frantic. "YOU'RE CRAZY!" She screamed, yanking back only to be choked by forceful pulls on her collar.

She twisted around onto her back and managed to get a leg out from underneath her, despite the best efforts of her containers, and kicked upwards at the side of Voldemort's face. He caught her ankle only inches away and held her in that poor offensive position as his nails continued to bite into her flesh. With her now free hand clawing vainly at the iron collar, the guards holding the chains all yanked backwards simultaneously, bringing her head slamming back onto the stone floor.

Hermione screamed and screamed but there was no one to help her. The Death Eater's all stared down at her pitilessly, watching eagerly for their Lord to regain his power.

"Unicorn blood cursed me..." he murmured sadistically to her as she kicked her held leg vainly and yanked at her arm. "But bathing in the blood of these innocents will restore me."

With a sharp pull that nearly dislocated her arm from its socket, he lifted her bloody wrist to his mouth. His foul, hot breath burned the cut skin and Hermione whimpered. "But _your's_ I'll drink..."

"NOO!" The prisoners were screaming in protest and beating at the bars. More light exploded as they tried again to break through with magic. However, nothing distracted the evil wizard from his ritual and he'd nearly covered her flesh with his mouth when a persistent beeping cut through the din.

"What _now_?" Preston wailed, stomping a green heel.

Jezabelle moved to retake her stance at the console, but Snape pushed her aside and billowed up to the monitors. Long, spindly fingers traced over the screens and searched through the probes with quick strokes of the keys.

"We have a problem..."

With a growl of frustration Voldemort shoved Hermione back and stood. "Put her in the cells with the others," he ordered with a wave of his hand. "I'll deal with her later."

As the black-robed wizard stalked over to the monitor display, the guards holding Hermione dragged the bleeding witch across the room and shoved her up against one of the barred walls. Unlatching her collar they gave her a swift blast to the back and her body was knocked straight through the bars as though they'd completely lost their solidity. Some of the students rushed the cell wall hoping for escape, but whatever spell had allowed Hermione to pass through was gone now.

Someone was binding the cuts on her wrist and Hermione struggled to sit up, but was finding it hard to do so now suffering from multiple concussions. That same person, or maybe it was someone different, moved behind her and propped her back up against them, holding her with an arm around her waist. A hand took hers and familiarity washed over her as her fingers were interlaced with another's.

"Remus..." she groaned and forced her eyes to open.

He was kneeling beside her all bright gunmetal eyes and warm smiles as he squeezed her hand softly and brushed the hair from her face. Hermione hadn't realized how much of her had thought she'd find him here dead, and seeing his face again – alive and whole – flooded her with relief.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she cried and flung her arms around his neck. The arm slipped from her waist now that Remus was there to support her.

Remus hugged her tightly and buried his face in her wild curls. "I thought they'd killed you..."

Hermione was crying. He'd rarely ever seen her cry, but the hot droplets of liquid splattering on his check and collar were unmistakably tears. She pulled back only far enough so that their foreheads were pressed together, but it was enough that Remus could see the saline tracks down her battered face.

"Don't cry..." he murmured, though he wasn't sure she'd heard him.

"I'm not going to lose you again," she whispered throatily and somehow through all of this they found each others' lips.

It wasn't the first kiss little girls dreamed about – Remus' lower lip was split and Hermione's were bruised and cracked and both were cold and tasting of iron – but they were together again and quite probably near death and it was the kiss they'd been waiting forever for.

"I'm alright..." she breathed against his chin when they parted with shuddering gasps, and gripped his shoulders to brace herself. "I can stand."

"Sirius help her up," Remus asked, as he held her arms.

The arm was back around her waist and the three of them got her standing again. Reaching down a bit wobbly, Hermione grabbed the hand on her hip and squeezed it gratefully. "Thank you," she said, smiling over her shoulder at Sirius.

After a pause he smiled back. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Rubbing at the lump forming on the back of her head she gave him a rueful look before moving forward through the crowded students. "Your definition of 'okay' and mine are vastly different..."

At the bars, she caught James' attention and waved weakly. He, Ginny, and Lily all smiled in relief and he blew her a kiss, making her smile too. Elbowing his way through the frightened students, Ron fell against the bars that separated their two cells and grabbed her hand.

"Don't worry," she hushed soothingly. Reaching through she brushed back his ginger bangs with loving care. "We're going to make it out of this, I swear. That's why I came..."

"And Harry?" He asked anxiously.

"At Hogwarts," she assured him. "Safe."

Ron let out a long, low sigh and they gripped one another's hands with painful desperation – each equally grateful to see the other still alive. Bringing his white, strained knuckles to her lips, she kissed his hand softly and they both smiled.

"Hermione..."

She looked up at Sirius as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Something's going on," he whispered and pointed towards Snape and Voldemort.

"—a second intruder," Snape was muttering. Hermione could see the grid display from her cell; a white blip was moving hastily up the screen.

"How did they get through the defenses too?" Narcissa demanded. Pink splotches were staining her ivory cheeks in her embarrassment and outrage. Behind her back, Preston and another girl were snickering.

Snape, collected as ever, scarcely granted the hysterical woman a glance as he worked on detaching the magical cameras. "He came up through the sewer pipes – you don't have any more guards left to stop him, Narcissa."

"_Him?_" She hissed.

Snape scowled down at her and projected the desired screen up over the blackness of the probe Hermione had destroyed. He turned to Voldemort. "It's Harry Potter, my lord."

"No!" Hermione gasped. It wasn't possible, and yet there was Harry, still in his torn tuxedo, sneaking along a grimy wall somewhere in the bowels of the Manor. Around his neck hung Hermione's gold medallion.

"You idiot," she whispered in dismay. "You were supposed to bring it to Dumbledore not use it yourself."

Voldemort began to laugh, blatantly nonplussed about the whole affair, and looked back over his shoulder at a hopeless Hermione clutching fretfully to the bars of her cell. "Why do you _"heroes"_ insist on coming alone – it only makes it that much easier for me to kill you..."

"NO!" She screamed, blasting the cell door with the intent of charring Voldemort's body to a crisp. The magic burst rebounded on her and only Remus' lupine reflexes kept her from being thrown flat on her back for the umpteenth time.

Flinging herself back at the bars, she clawed for the laughing wizard between the gaps. "If you touch one _hair_ on his head," she snarled passionately. "I won't stop until I kill you."

"Brave words...for a girl I'm about to suck dry..." He reached for her outstretched arm, the blood from her wound seeping through the makeshift bandage of Remus' dress shirt, and she recoiled reflexively before steeling her nerve.

She turned her wrist upwards, catching Voldemort's gaze on the crimson stain and shuddering in disgust as the sight of it ensnared him. Sirius tried to pull her away from the bars as the evil man stepped closer, but she only tightened her grip on the cage and it was Remus who pulled his friend away. The unspoken words "I Understand" hanging in the air between them.

Testing his bloodlust, Hermione moved her arm slightly. His eyes followed it. She repressed another shudder and took a deep breath. Voldemort reached for her hand and she lashed out, raking her nails down his cheek but missing the throat as he stumbled back.

This time it was Remus' hands on her shoulders pulling her back within the safety of the cell as Voldemort smirked and touched his fingers to the cuts.

"FILTHY MUDBLOOD!" Draco roared. "How dare you touch our Lord!"

Voldemort lifted a hand. "Silence, Draco!" He ordered. To Hermione, glaring defiantly back at him through the bars, he said, "Aren't you the insolent one? I won't leave a single drop of blood left to color those pretty cheeks of yours..."

"My lord," Snape said insistently, which led one to believe he'd been trying to get the wizard's attention for some time. "What shall we do about Potter?"

Voldemort turned towards the Potions Master with a sneer. "Let him come. After all...it's the "hero's" job to save the prisoners, isn't it?" He looked over his shoulder at Hermione. "We've also got _her_..."

"He's working his way through the servant quarters," Snape reported. He glanced briefly at Hermione and then back down.

Flicking back the long sleeves of his heavy robes, Voldemort clasped his hands together and turned to survey the cells. "Just how shall we occupy our time waiting for the young Mr. Potter to deign us with his presence?"

It seemed he'd taken particular interest in tormenting Hermione, for each word seemed to be directed towards her. He crossed the room and headed straight for one of the cells. Extending one of his hands he gestured into the crowd. There was a shout of surprise painfully familiar and then Lily was being pulled straight through the bars as she had been.

"LILY!"

"JAMES!"

The couple grabbed for one another, but Voldemort cruelly yanked her out into the hallway just seconds before their fingers touched. He left her sprawled on the floor and trying to regain her breath as he moved on to the next cell.

"I was always rather fond of red heads," he told Hermione silkily. She knew exactly who he was pulling out next before he even did it. Ginny scowled at him as his outstretched hand dragged her up to the bars despite Neville and Dean trying to hold her back.

"I remember you," he smirked, charmingly. He moved to tip up her chin but she snapped her small white teeth and nearly bit down on the flesh of his finger. "You've grown into quite the beauty. It almost makes me glad I didn't get the chance to steal your life force all those years ago."

He motioned upwards and Ginny's hands went to her neck as if some invisible hand was squeezing her throat and lifting her up off the ground. She passed through the bars and Dean and Neville collided painfully into their solid surface. Still holding the struggling prefect aloft he turned to Lily who'd pressed herself up against the bars and into James' arms. He flicked his hand upwards and her knees left the stone to the tune of her hysteric cries, trying to clutch to James' shirt through the bars.

"STOP IT!" Hermione screamed, as Lily's cries were choked out by that same invisible force.

"HERMIONE! DO SOMETHING!" James yelled, holding tight to Lily's hand with both of his.

Hermione lifted both her hands, crackling with energy and Remus could almost see her step into her world of red. "It won't work!" Sirius yelled, but the brunette couldn't stand there and let Voldemort do whatever he was planning to her friends.

"RON!"

The redhead fell to his knees and slammed his palms into the stone floor even as Hermione began the first of her violent barrage. The cell's wall was perpetually alight with her energy as every spell she sent at the bars exploded in a stinging blast of sparks and bowled back over her. This time she was ready, and as each blow hit her stronger than the first, she dug her heels into the stone floor and pushed right back. Beside her, Ron's hands were starting to glow golden-orange.

"Get down!" Remus ordered with all the authority of a prefect and the students in Hermione's cell all went down onto their knees and bellies. They threw their arms protectively over their heads as the embers that made it past Hermione rained down on them.

Voldemort was walking towards the room's center, the two flailing girls floating in front of him, and waiting for him at the edge of a dark smeared circle was Narcissa, athame in hand. It was still coated with the blood of Bellatrix Black.

Snape hovered anxiously behind her, hands folded into the sleeves of his robe.

The first scuttle went unnoticed as Narcissa lifted the knife in anticipation for the first strike as Lily was swung tantalizingly in front of her. The blonde shrieked though when the second scuttle sent a fuzzy body across her foot. She jumped and the dagger dropped to the stone.

"What?" Voldemort demanded.

"Something...Something – a-across my foot," Narcissa stammered. She whirled around searching for the culprit, but there was nothing. Only when she bent to pick up the athame did the black bodies came scuttling out from the shadows in a great ebony wave of legs and beady eyes.

She screamed and stumbled back into Snape, who seemed to only catch her out of reflex, as the flesh-fed spiders of the Malfoy dungeons swarmed up over their legs pinching and biting with sudden vehemence. The students instantly began to cry out in fear, but it was without reason as the large spiders seemed quite content to stay in the open hallway and crawl over the disgusted Death Eaters. The arachnid's focus seemed to be on Voldemort and he was invisible up to his chest in scuttling black bodies before he finally flung down the two girls to attack the annoying pestilence.

The two spots where they fell were instantly cleared of spiders as if they'd sensed their descent, and the two girls lay in clear gray circles among the throng of wild creatures.

Narcissa, silky blonde hair coming out of its once-sleek chignon as she frantically blasted off the disgusting spiders she hadn't even known were breeding in her own house, summoned the dagger out of the swarm of bodies with a spell. And handle clutched white-knuckled in her hand she shoved Snape away from her and began wading with fanatical determination toward the immobile Ginny.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?" Voldemort roared, but his minions were too preoccupied with their own problems to answer and Hermione had just noticed Narcissa.

"RON!" She yelled fervently, and in the blink of an eye rats the size of quaffles appeared out of every crack in the wall and scurried up the skirt of Narcissa's dress.

She cried out in pain as they bit into her, but she only swatted them off before continuing again.

"REMUS!" Hermione tried desperately, tiring quickly off the magical beating being waged on her. "Stop Narcissa! Bring her DOWN!"

"What can I do?" Remus exclaimed.

"Whatever it is," Sirius said. "Do it quick!"

The brunet nodded and set to work even as Hermione collapsed from the strain of her futile endeavors and fell back into Sirius' waiting arms. Remus was awarded with a welcome distraction as the door swung open and Harry barreled in, sword in hand and wand in the other.

He surveyed the scene quickly and lifted his wand in ready defense. "Is this a bad time?"

"Just one drink and I'll break your bones with my bare hands..." Voldemort swore and whirled around to face Hermione.

Behind him Narcissa began to scream and clutch her head. "I'M SORRY BELLA!" She wailed pitifully and staggered into one of the walls. Remus' gaze made a straight line to her forehead.

Hermione, too weak to defend herself, turned into Sirius and hugged him waiting for Voldemort to snatch her out of her cell and continue his barbaric ritual of blood.

"YOU STAY AWAY FROM HER!"

Hermione looked up in surprise as Harry leapt at Voldemort's back, riding them both to the ground only to be flung back into the spiders that parted for his collision by an outraged burst of energy from Voldemort. Both wizards got to their feet and went at each other with ferocious abandon and deadly spells.

As they fought, Ron continued to aid Remus' power by flowing all the creatures towards the psychologically distraught woman as the lycan bent all his will and Truth upon the fragile mind of Narcissa Black Malfoy.

"It was for the cause cousin," she moaned, clawing her nails down her face and staggering about. "Always the cause!"

"What's going on with Narcissa?" Pansy trilled in her high-screechy voice as Draco fought to keep the painful spiders and rats off the both of them.

"DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!" The sharp-faced woman screamed into thin air. "YOU WOULD HAVE DONE IT TOO!"

"She's totally lost it!" Preston exclaimed, viciously exploding a rat with a wave of her wand.

Hermione slipped out of Sirius' arms and pressed herself flat against the floor. The creepy arachnids with their hundred faceted eyes skittered out of the way of the arm she extended out through the bars. The vibrant mound of orange curls was still a foot or so out of reach.

"Lily..." she whispered desperately. "LILY!"

The body shifted and slowly a face turned to look across the dusty floor at her. "Lily, listen to me," she whispered lowly. "I know you're tired and I know you're hurting, and I'm sorry I didn't do a better job of training you, but _please_...I need you to do this. Take my hand."

Lily moaned and lifted herself painfully off the ground to pull her arm out from underneath her. She collapsed back to the stone in a poof of dust and dirt and could only manage labored breaths for a few precious seconds. Achingly slow her hand started to slide towards the bars.

Hermione glanced up at Narcissa, wildly waving around the dagger, and then over to Harry now bleeding profusely from one arm as he squared off against Voldemort. "Lily...you have _got_ to take my hand..."

"What are you trying to do?" Sirius asked, leaning over her in concern.

A girl screamed "OH MY GOD!" and Remus fell onto his side beside her, sweating and trembling. Hermione didn't dare take her eyes off of the struggling Lily, but she heard enough to piece together what had happened.

"DRACO! MY GOD – SHE'S DEAD!" Pansy wailed hysterically.

"She stabbed herself!" Jezabelle's voice was disbelieving.

Hermione was pressed so hard against the bar that the metal cylinders bruised her cheek and her shoulder screamed in protest. Lily was straining her fingertips to reach Hermione's hand. "_Reach_..."

"_I'll_ slit her throat." Preston had pulled the athame from Narcissa's breast.

Hermione was stretched as far as she'd ever thought possible and it was now up to Lily to bridge the distance between them. Hermione was marshalling the last bit of Magic left inside her – all she needed was a millimeter of contact. Tears of pain leaking down the corners of Lily's beautiful jade eyes, she dragged herself that last half-centimeter and the two girls met in the merest grazing of fingertips.

It was enough.

Their fingers stuck together instantly as if cemented together and Hermione sent her power coursing through their very skin and into Lily where there were no force fields against her magic. Sirius instantly grabbed her hand and the flow of energy increased tenfold. Lily's body was quickly filled to the brim and the excess magic seeped out through her very skin and flooded the dungeon in a flesh-prickling ripple.

Though steadfast and sturdy for countless centuries, the cell walls had not been designed with even the smallest imaginings of such a power buffeting it on both sides. Only a handful of seconds under the assault and the wall of Hermione's cell was blasted clear off its hinges.

Dangling off the brink of consciousness, Hermione fought to ride the wave of power to its completion. Like a row of dominoes the cell walls exploded outwards down the line of her wall and then back up along the opposite. James leapt out of his prison and covered Ginny's unconscious body with his own as the heap of metal blasted over his head and collided with Preston, standing knife raised over him, and with a screech she was batted across the room.

Remus shielded the immobile Hermione as Sirius lead the charge of students out into the hall, Ron and his group not far behind. The Death Eaters were overwhelmed and despite their greater experience the sheer numbers beat them. And then to the surprise of all there, Jezabelle fell upon Draco with her wand as he moved to attack James in the back. Right behind her was Snape, wand ripe with purple magic that he blasted into Voldemort's side and he and Harry forced him back.

"TRAITORS!" The dark lord hissed. "How dare you!"

Jezabelle looked up at him defiantly as she helped Sirius carry Lily across the room to James. "You're a washed up old fool," she snapped callously. "I was _never_ part of your 'cause'."

Voldemort, snarling in rage, launched a crucio at her, but Snape stepped in the way and deflected it with a powerful protego spell. "It's over Voldemort," he sneered and raised his wand to attack again.

And then something odd happened.

As Lily was deposited into James' arms a white pillar of light consumed them and Sirius, buffeting Jezabelle gently to the outside. Ron, jostled back by the crowd of students rushing to escape the dungeons, was suddenly stuck in a similar pillar of light that ensconced Remus, Hermione and himself. Between the two beams of light, Harry was covered in a spotlight of gold.

Snape stepped back warily beside Jezabelle and the two watched in confusion.

"This is it!" Sirius said. "The Aureus Prophecy!"

Hermione's unconscious body and Lily's were levitated up into the air and in a flash golden beams laced out from Harry to the both of them and then between one another; pinning Voldemort in a triangle of ancient magic. It hadn't been the Golden Trio after all, but the Golden Points of the Star that fulfilled the prophecy they'd been fiddling with since the beginning of term – Man, Heart, and Magic.

Hermione was the most powerful witch in this age, and Lily's awesome power in protecting her young child proved her to be the most powerful of _her_ age. Harry, filled with Lily's powerful blood and bonded through souls with Hermione, was the link between them.

Not to say that he was merely standing about while all this happened, Voldemort was truly fighting to break free of the invisible triangle that held him prisoner. The ritual, however, once enacted was impossible to breach. He roared and cursed and filled the space with the sparks of his dark magick, but nothing could save the dark wizard now.

Sirius and James were pulled to each side of Lily as her mouth opened and she chanted, "Love." James' light flickered.

"Power." Sirius flashed.

"Child." The trio's light was sucked into Harry's beam and its intensity doubled.

Poor Hermione, who'd given so much of herself in the last few hours, was now unwakeable at the end of it all making all her long and psychologically painful hours of training seem all for nothing. Arms and legs dangling downwards as a thread appeared to suspend her by her waist, she hung like the dead above their heads. Despite her immobility, both Remus and Ron were bumped to the sides as their friends had been.

Without moving her lips or even appearing to stir from her stupor, Hermione's voice echoed eerily over the proceedings.

"Heart." Remus glowed and blushed.

"Blood." Ron pulsed.

"Soul." The trio's lights twisted into Harry and the gold light around him was blindingly impossible to look at.

Wand outstretched, Voldemort charged at Harry – the sickening green light of an Avada sparking at the wood's tip. Radiating calm and tranquility, Harry lifted his arm and touched the tip of his index finger to Voldemort's forehead; freezing him mid-charge.

"Consecrate," was all the bespectacled boy said and all the pent up light flowed down his arm in a rush and into that single point on the evil wizard's forehead.

A thunderous right noise filled the room in such a blank roar that all sound was utterly blocked out and Hermione and Lily were set back onto the ground. White light inked in Voldemort's outline from his feet to the crown of his head as though his evil visage was being "whited-out", and then...

...he was simply winked out of existence.

All the paranormal light and sound vanished just as suddenly as he had gone, restoring the dungeon to its original shadowed darkness. And the six remaining points joined Hermione in blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

Not a single life had been lost on the side of good that Halloween night, and though the events at the evening's climax seemed some fanatical myth to those who had not witnessed it no one else was stepping up with a different story. The line of students outside the Hospital Wing waiting to deposit their meager offerings of candy on the bedsides of seven recuperating patients was inexplicable otherwise. Their names were spoken openly in the hallways and there was even word of special awards being prepared in their honor.

But to the seven it was enough to simply be together, and the week they spent in the Infirmary was a pleasant one. The hard choices still ahead between them were left undiscussed and unmentioned. It was a silent agreement that they would at least have this week in one another's company; joy and laughter.

Voldemort was gone forever. And though the horror and tyranny he imposed over two generations could never be undone or repaired, the people of the world – both magic and non – were now free to begin picking up the pieces of their broken lives. They were free to see their families again or seek out the scattered members – or even start one of their own. They were free to laugh, to learn, and to live without fear.

But most of all...they were free to become the carefree teenagers they'd been before the war had stolen their childhood– full of light, hope, and a vibrant love.


	36. Epilogue x All Good Things Must Come To ...

**Completed:** (5/11/05) 3:50 PM  
**Posted: **(5/11/05) 4:00 PM

_A/N:_ Here it is. Sorry for the delay. Once again, thanks to everyone and hopefully this will lead to an equally well-loved sequel. But gimme a little vacation to catch my breath first :-P.

_Sequel Notes:_ For those of you who are really interested in the sequel. Leave your e-mail in a review and the SECOND I sit down to start writing it you'll have a lovely little email on the way.

_Update Notes:_ Also, if you'd like to be put on an update list I'm setting up – leave your e-mail and a note that you want to be updated, as well as for which stories or just in general. This update list may or may not be privy to story artwork and more – even perhaps a few sneak peaks? winkwink

Enjoy! And go out and read a book today – right now!

* * *

Hermione Granger hadn't left her home for an entire week.

Not even the children racing through the halls at dawn woke her until her standard rousing at a quarter 'til noon. Dressing gown always hanging off her shoulders, baring her slip of a nightgown, she'd morose around her bed chambers for hours until her own frizzed mop of curls frustrated her back into the warm tangle of her bed and into another half day of sleep.

On this particular evening in the third week of November, she'd ransacked her bed and taken on her disorganized wanderings the pale blue comforter from it. With it wrapped around her waist, she was sprawled alongside the grate in her floor waiting for the sounds of movement through the vents.

"Harry..." she ventured at half past three.

Shuffling and then the familiar sound of Harry's desk chair being dragged underneath the ceiling vent. "Hermione? Are you coming down to tea today?"

Hermione groaned, feeling the metal pressing into her cheek as she turned to her side. "I detest tea."

A snort. Then Harry's echoic voice. "You _love _tea, babe."

She sighed. "Well, I detest it today."

"You haven't come down all week."

Hermione's chest burned and her fingers curled in the tiny slots of the grate. "I...I miss them, Harry."

Her best friend was silent for a long time, but Hermione waited patiently for the words she heard every day. This wasn't the first time they'd exchanged these thoughts, but like a slat being wiped clean Hermione awoke each afternoon with renewed gloom and lackluster outlook.

"They had to go, Hermione," he told her, for what must have been the billionth time, and yet his voice was still sympathetic and kind.

"They could have stayed," she argued vehemently. She frowned at the grate as though it were the culprit. "I – _We_ were here. Aren't we good enough?"

Harry chuckled and she automatically flushed. "You alone were reason enough for them to stay, much less Ron and I..."

"So you agree with me then?" This was a new twist to the tired conversation.

"Must I always remind you, my soul, _you_ were the one who told them to go?"

Hermione rolled frustrated away from the vent and sat up with her back to the window. Her robe was falling down into the crooks of her elbows and the glass was freezing cold even through the thick downy layers of her blanket. Her silence had caused the young wizard in the room below hers to begin calling her name up through the vent, but for the moment she couldn't bring herself to move much less speak.

Fact: She _had_ been purposefully secluding herself. Opinion: She was being dramatic. Fact: She _wasn't_. Theory: Being her best friend and accepted soul mate, no matter how often they repeated the scenario, Harry was supposed to be supportive and understanding each time. Complaint: Harry was being a meanie and totally dashing her logical theory.

Couldn't he see there was no reason for her to leave her bedroom, much less her home? Granted, her home was now exceedingly large and there wasn't much she needed that wasn't provided for her on some floor. There wasn't anything save for large zoo animals that she couldn't find within these sturdy walls, without ever having to venture out into the world.

Fudge, after a fair deal of influencing from Dumbledore, had handed over the deed to Malfoy Manor to Harry when presenting him with the awards and gifts of the wizarding world at graduation. Not only was it now their home, but it was also a wizarding shelter for witches, wizards and magical creatures to take refuge in for as long as they needed while the magical world underwent its post-war reconstruction.

Most had had their homes decimated during the raids and skirmishes. Others waylaid their quest for lost loved ones here to rest and regain their strength. All were in need of a decent mattress and a hot meal. Of course, she and the others did all that they could for each person and family; using their vast connections and personal pull to find jobs, homes, and even missing persons.

"HERMIONE JANE GRANGER! IF YOU DON'T COME DOWNSTAIRS THIS INSTANT I'LL NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry could be such a drama wizard some times.

"That's like a whole..._two_ flights of stairs," she grimaced; calling down into the vent like a petulant child.

A husky chuckle and then, "It's rude for a hostess not to great her friends."

That was _not_ Harry's voice.

Comforter abandoned, Hermione was already tearing out of her bedroom and nearly falling down the stairs in her night clothes. A couple smiled knowingly at her as she sprinted past them, her bare feet slapping against the wood floors, and a trio of girls playing dolls giggled as she took the final five steps of the staircase in a wild leap.

She'd almost made it to Harry's bedroom when the door opened and the group inside began to exit. She attacked the first one out with a near-tackling hug, but he grabbed her around the waist mid-jump and spun her joyously around.

"You're back!" Hermione exclaimed happily, wrapping her arms around his neck as if she'd never let go.

"Crikey, pigeon," Sirius teased. "We've only been gone a few weeks."

"Oh right – only just after we all almost died. _That's_ not nerve-wracking," she complained as she was set back down on the solid floor.

"That was months ago, you crazy bird." James opened his arms as Hermione gave a gleeful cry and the two friends embraced. "Ugh! You're a mess, Hermione. Though it's understandable you'd fall to pieces without me here..."

Hermione punched him hard on the shoulder, proving that she hadn't lost her strong right hook after the war's end. While Sirius openly mocked his whimpering best mate, Hermione was met by Lily. They kissed one another's cheeks and hugged tightly before Harry squeezed his arms around the both of them and the triumvirate stumbled around in a bubbly bout of laughter and smiling faces.

"How was it?" Hermione asked. "Did you get any time to work on the wedding plans?"

"Merlin's beard no!" The redhead exclaimed when they all parted. "Dumbledore would use his occulumency to bring more of our memories to the forefront, then Hestia Jones would come and give us history lessons over everything that's happened since the 70s, then we'd give some demos for the DADA classes, and then Dumbledore would meet with us again to discuss anything we remembered over the course of the day. Oh, it was so _exhausting_."

Hermione frowned. "I still say you could have learned all that _here_. Three weeks was such a long time for you to be gone."

"I believe you were the one who said we'd be able to focus better if we undertook our acclimation to the future away from home."

Lily winked knowingly as Hermione's face lit up and she spun around. Remus was leaning against the frame of Harry's bedroom door, smiling. She looked ridiculous in her shabby robe with rumpled hair and nightgown, but still she attempted to frown at him.

"Why does everybody start listening to me _now_? I am not the voice of reason here," she exclaimed; hands on hips.

"So I don't ever have to listen to you again?" The lycan grinned, baring two rows of perfect white teeth.

It was enough to send Hermione running into his arms, and the couple stumbled around holding one another with a delirious sort of happiness and the simple contact between them seemed to totally restore Hermione from her earlier moping mindset.

"Let's go have some tea and let Ron know you've all returned." Hermione's announcement was readily answered by sounds of eager agreement , but as she moved to join the group headed towards the kitchen, Remus held her back.

Only Sirius noticed she wasn't with them, and he stopped to look back. Feeling the warm hand clasping her own, Hermione felt surely her face was glowing like a silly school girl as she blew Sirius a kiss and motioned for him to go on without her. His return smile was a bit hesitant, but he bowed gallantly to her request and turned down the hall.

Gentle hands turned her face back and her lips met with Remus' in a kiss that left her mouth burning and tasting of chocolate and honey. He held both her hands with interlocked fingers, but it wasn't his hold that kept Hermione's body pressed against his.

"You know...I didn't think it was possible for someone to miss another person as much as I missed you this last month," he whispered against her forehead. "Then I saw you--"

"Yes, yes," Hermione grumbled. "I know I look frightful. I would have taken a bath if I'd known you were coming back today."

He chuckled; a rumble that ran through his chest and through her thin nightclothes. "We wanted to...surprise you."

"I _am_ surprised," she insisted.

"Good," he murmured, and brushed back a russet curl with their joined hands.

Hermione swayed against him with a sly smile and he shuffled his feet after a chuckle and all too soon they were waltzing smoothly around the wide hall. They needed no music or rhythm because holding to one another was enough to glide them back and forth in their less than ball-worthy apparel.

"You know," Hermione grinned. "The last time we danced like this we didn't part exactly the way I'd hoped."

Remus smiled softly; the look that thrilled her all the way down to her toes knowing it was just for her and made her give up on fighting her lovesickness. "Remind me to rectify that at the end of our dance."

She blushed despite her better judgment and looked down with eyes aglow. Being equal heights, Hermione could rest her chin easily on his shoulder and as she did so, Remus matched her position and began to whisper into her ear sweet promises and verses that brought her so much joy she closed her eyes and let them wash over her.

When the warm-breathed words lulled, Hermione was so filled with his heart-racing sentiments that she couldn't contain her own any longer and the heavy words were spoken just as quietly as his whispers in her ear; their verses were private and personal, lines only for one another's ears.

"I'm so happy you stayed..."

One hot droplet hit his neck and then other and that was it. There would be no more tears from Hermione Granger as they danced. Remus pressed a kiss to her temple and rubbed her back. "The four of us were given another chance at life. _You_ gave us that chance. The timeline is still the same as always, so there's no reason for us to go back."

His grip on her tightened causing her to look up at him curiously through the loose curls of her ponytail. He smiled at her. "But there are so many reasons for us to _stay_. You're mine."

Hermione had no answer to that because she could not find the words. She laid her cheek against his shoulder and was lulled into an easy, relaxed state by the thrumming of his heart against her breast and the warm musky scent she could almost taste on his throat.

"You're _Sirius'_ reason too."

Remus almost stopped their brilliant dance, but Hermione kept them going with a shake of her head into his neck where she'd now buried her face. "No...he stays because of James. Because you stayed. The three of you are inseparable—"

"Hermione. You can't argue with me – I'm 'Truth', remember?" Remus sighed; a rustling of her tangled curls. "Besides. Lily's already confirmed it. Sirius stayed because he still loves you."

Hermione felt so warm and safe in these arms and she knew they would only perfectly fit around her. Here, she was more at home than walking the halls of the Manor. She didn't want to think about such things, such complications to this perfect moment. The faintest movement of the hairs on the back of Remus' neck was the only disturbance that belied Hermione's soft sigh.

"I know..." she whispered.

He stopped their swaying and not one of her subtle nudges could restart them again. His hand hovered briefly over the locket she still wore clasped around her neck and then he looked down at their remaining joined hands. "You might not have believed me before, but really...I want you to do whatever makes you happy."

Hermione kissed his cheek and goaded him into raising his head with more kisses along his jaw and under his chin. "There wasn't a moment you were gone," she said throatily. "That I wasn't thinking about you. And if that's not love then I don't care because I'm not letting you go."

She met his gaze with firm eyes while her hands moved to grip his arms. "I'll keep you until you walk away," she swore. "And even then I'll never stop trying to get you back."

This was _the_ moment. Both outgoing in friends, but introverted in love, the earth had had to go full circle to bring them to this point of openness and hope. Their trust was implicit, their loyalty proven, but it was their emotions over which they struggled to gain control of now. The pair was long graduated and crossed into adulthood, but for all their intellect not a single scenario they'd theorized in their heads could have accurately foreshadowed _this_ moment.

"I believe you," he answered in his even tone. "And I'm not going _anywhere_."

Hermione let out a short cry as her elation overflowed and she threw herself exuberantly into Remus' perfect arms. They were both laughing with too much happiness to make long of the kisses, but that didn't stop either of them from trying as they staggered around the hall; Remus folding his arms beneath her bottom and hers wrapped around his neck as she dropped kisses across his jaw and lips from her advantageous height.

They had one another and their combined strength would keep them both going as they figured out exactly what 'love' meant, and if that was what they felt or if it was something greater. They had their friends, shelter, and a purpose; an abundance of laughter, life, and an undeniable feeling that was perhaps this thing the movies called 'love'.

* * *

The world was far from being perfect, but to Hermione and Remus it was getting pretty close.

* * *


End file.
